


Spring will be a Little Late this Year

by wisp_o_will



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe, Buddy Cop fic, Cameos, Case Fic, Crime, Domestic, Drama, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, Injury Recovery, Jazz is a cop, M/M, Mystery, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Romance, Slow Burn, Soundwave centerfic, Tags May Change, mafia, set to the aesthetics of Prime, should be considered its own continuity, soundwave has criminal ties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2019-12-18 09:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18247481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisp_o_will/pseuds/wisp_o_will
Summary: Absolved of a crime he did not commit and recovering from a corresponding injury, Soundwave works overtime to pay off his debt. Poverty prevails in the city of Polyhex and he walks a fine line between stability and the ever-reaching hand of his past. Things start to change after a chance encounter with Jazz, an undercover agent at a local bar, and Soundwave is dragged ever closer to the life he thought he left behind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of things before we get this thing started! A great big shoutout to my beta and best friend, without her encouragement and steadfast determination this thing would not exist. Without her support, my crippling self-doubt would have destroyed this project. 
> 
> This is/was my first time writing a transformers fanfic, my first time writing this pairing, my first time writing a case fic and this thing is PURE indulgence, born out of the desire to see more of this pairing (of Soundwave in particular) but in a feel-good way I rarely see with them. And also because I ran out of content to read LKAJDLKFALJFD 
> 
> To avoid spoilers, trigger warning will be placed in the notes before the chapter in the event of upsetting content. If I miss something, please let me know so I can add a warning. 
> 
> I will try to keep to an updating schedule, once or twice a month but I'm really bad at consistency. I may take a hiatus or two if I fall behind.
> 
> Without further adieu, enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A typical morning.

The ending cycle of a deep defrag came unpleasantly. Consciousness came first before his systems had righted themselves. It was not the light of dawn that greeted him or the ping of an alarm, but relentless paranoia which would without fail rouse him many joors too early. There was no logical reason for the warning pings his systems sent him. It was an error with no discernible source but without precedent, every cable underneath his plating coiled, anticipating the unseen threat that would never come.

 

The medic called it: _a sign of recovery._

 

Soundwave called it: _inconvenient._

 

He rose, backstrut aching. Swung his legs over the edge of the berth, and grappling blindly, he felt for the mask on the table. Nimble digits curled around a smooth sheet of metal and deftly fixed it into place over his faceplate. He sucked in a breath. The medical protocol for the device unhelpfully reminded him of the expiration date for the thing. Last megacycle. Along with the recommendation to ease out of wearing the device. A notification which he dismissed. He had already tinkered with much of the programming to allow for the duration of longer use and possibly indefinite function but had yet to find the time to dismantle the core medical software. A shame really because it was the one part of the device he absolutely despised.

 

The lights in the domicile were off. Soundwave swiveled his helm towards the window. Outside the city lights appeared dampened against a twilight sky. Smothered by fog and a perpetual dreariness that seemed to be a staple for this end of Polyhex. The city was by no means a place of affluence. Though all but unofficially declared by the current overlord, a stark divide existed between the wealthy and what he himself had labeled as “ _the other_.”

 

With aching slowness, he pushed himself to his pedes and began the daily routine. First on the agenda: helm count.

 

The domicile did not offer many places to hide. It was a simple matter to peer over shelving and under furniture. But it was even simpler to circle the space once, and with some focus _feel_ where they were. However, it was more difficult to feel a recharging mech, regardless of size. Their emotional cortex was quiet, watered down, and the soft beating of sparks easily melted into the ambiance of the larger city. Pinpointing recharging symbionts then, was like wading blindly through a pool of oil searching for a key card. Do-able, but you wouldn't find it until it found you.

 

Alternatively, he could send a ping to their com's or send an inquiry through the light tether of the symbiotic link, but that would disturb their recharge cycle. He felt less inclined to do as much.

 

Laserbeak remained docked, interlocked in the security of his chassis, where she preferred to be, and thus did not need finding. As for the rest... he found Frenzy under the recliner, Ravage on the shelf above his desk, and Rumble was...

 

Soundwave came to a halt in the middle of the room. He tilted his helm upwards.

 

Rumble had gotten himself into the bowl of the lighting fixture. He seemed content to remain there.

 

He felt nothing but content from each, though the pang of hunger was ever present. It was slight, peckish. It would have to do for now.

 

Having confirmed a visual sighting of each symbiont, Soundwave turned his attention to the second task of the cycle: confirming the work schedule for the next orn. Logging into the interweb console revealed little change since his last confirmation. The head archivist had scheduled a club meeting at the start of the next lunar-cycle and had requested the presence of all clerks to ensure the library was in outstanding order. All but two, including himself, would be released from duty the joor before so the club members would not be disturbed. If they stayed they would not be paid overtime. Soundwave had no plans to stay without receiving credits for it. So that was that.

 

Rumble and Frenzy were booked for a delivery that would take them across the city mid-solar-cycle to dusk. Ravage had not booked her time in, as typical. The feline did odd service jobs. Her hours were inconsistent but she would be agitated if she did not bring something home at the end of the orn. Where she worked freelance; the twins were registered as one employee under the courier company they worked for. Symbionts were not considered individuals in the optics of the law. They were instead seen as extensions of their deployer. They had no rights individually, but “shared” any privilege their host held. The one benefit to this was that it enabled their group to hold multiple jobs at once when otherwise they would be unable to. This fact alone had saved them from living on the street on several occasions.

 

He scrolled through the new feeds for two more dull joors before the alarm alerted him it was time to get ready. He stretched, worked out the kinks in his neck cables and made his way to the wash rack.

 

Careful not to wake the small army recharging at his doorstep, he slid the door closed with a soft click. In contrast, the rumble of the tap sounded too much like a monsoon. The spatter of the solvent a hollow roaring _whoosh_. Within the walls, the plumbing rattled and groaned. Soundwave was always careful not to tune-in to the presence of the mecha both below and above his domicile but he was nevertheless aware they would be awoken by the sound. It was not his intention, but it would happen regardless. This was the reason he risked waking the symbionts to have his bath. Another complaint to the landlord would not be beneficial at this stage. The rent was overdue and the wrecker had a tendency to tack on unnecessary fees.

 

Finally, after what seemed like far too long the soothing solvent oils filled to the brim of the tub. He switched the tap off, the clattering roar of the faucet dying down to a shallow drip.

 

Soundwave lowered himself slowly into the bath. Each stiff joint wound tight, tense against the heat of the solvent. Despite this, as he sank in the heat pried away some of the stiffness. The soothing oils loosened the building tension in his frame, and did wonders for the constant ache of his fuel tanks. He slid in deeper until he lay on his back, warm solvent reaching just below his chin and completely concealing his throat. Nimble digits coiled around the rim of the tub, hold tightening for a beat before stiffly releasing. He vented softly, feeling the bubbles rise around his frame.

 

There was peace for several Primus sent moments. Time that Soundwave used to keep his processor blank- free of thoughts, aches, and pains. A state of meditation was reached easily, settled deep into the infrastructure of his being until with a click the door slid open with a sense of finality and the patter of small pedes met his audials.

 

“Can we join you boss-bot?” Asked the red minibot. Frenzy had sense enough, at least, to not jump in right away. A blessing he was not often graced with. Rumble peered around the door frame, little frame silhouetted by the light of the chamber beyond. His red tinted visor shone a near white, and the damnable little mech was grinning.

 

_No,_ Soundwave thought, _You may not._ He did not say this aloud. He did not express this through his end of the symbiotic-link. He exuded an air of indifference, pointedly ignoring the now rapidly growing company.

 

Over the edge of the tub, Rumble peered over; he was just tall enough so that he could look over the edge without standing on the tips of his pedes, but otherwise would need significant assistance actually climbing in. He shot Frenzy a grin, cupped warm oil in his servo and splashed his brother. His aim held true and Frenzy met his challenge with a snicker and a retaliatory splash.

 

Soundwave sank deeper, knee plates emerging from below the solvent. The oil now reached the lower half of his mask.

 

The clattering of an empty cube landing on the floor signaled the arrival of the last and oldest member of the set. Atop the sink, Ravage sat herself down on her haunches, her tail wrapped elegantly around her paws. She lifted one paw and began grooming herself. Amusement fluttered across their bond, but Soundwave could not sink any lower into the tub to avoid it.

 

“Don’t get the solvent on the floor. It’ll only erode the tiles further.”

 

In unison, Rumble and Frenzy turned to flip her off.

 

“Eh, it’s not like the landlord would notice!” To prove his point Rumble kicked at a crack. It chipped. “See what I mean?”

 

Ravage shook her head. She dangled her front half over the rim of the sink and something else fell.

 

Seemingly finally awoken by the activity, Laserbeak chimed a request to deploy. It didn't matter that she would be deploying under several gallons of solvent- she wanted to join in the fun.

 

Resigned to his fate, Soundwave granted her request. He regretted it almost immediately.

 

Laserbeak flapped her way to the surface with all the grace of a falling titan. Her tiny claws scrambled for purchase on the smooth rim of the tub with little success, wings spraying droplets of solvent across the wash rack. A gurgling chirp left her as she slid halfway back in. With no dignity or grace left to spare she finally found a precarious position straddling the side, claws gripped tight, where the little flier then tried and failed to find her balance. She lost grip on the slippery surface and fell back in.

  
  
It was only by reluctant guide of his servo, her little claws wrapped around his digits that pulled her free from the oil and set her on a suitable perch of the widest section of the rim. She looked frazzled from the ordeal, dripping wet, pride only soothed by the puff of her plating- as proud as all birds could ever be.

 

It could not save her from the twins’ sense of humor. By the end of the spectacle, Rumble and Frenzy were roaring with laughter.

 

Pride only just salvaged, Laserbeak squawked with indignation and gave them both an almighty splash. Their squeals of laughter seemed to only reach a new pitch.

 

Rumble turned to Frenzy with a gleam in his optic. “Give me a lift will ya? We'll show her whos boss!” Frenzy grinned and dropped down so Rumble could climb onto his back. With a final shove, one brother was in with a splash.

 

Frenzy reached over the rim of the tub, arms outstretched and servos grasping at the air. “Hurry up Rumble! You're hogging the good stuff.” A shout, laughter and another splash soon followed.

 

Soundwave stared up at the ceiling, tracing the cracks with his optics and imaging constellations in the particles of dust which fell from it. White, Grey, and chalk. Despite his best efforts, the tension wrecking his cabling returned with a vengeance. The oil had cooled significantly as well, and Soundwave considered it about time to refuel.

 

Nimble digits once again tightly wound around the edge of the tub and achingly, Soundwave hauled himself upright. At once all three symbionts squealed. Cries of _“Get back Rumble! The cityformer raises again!_ ” and _“It's the lunar-cycle of the fallen!”_ met his audials. He strolled past Ravage, grabbing a towel as he went. The large feline dropped down from the sink with a thump and followed along at his heels, weaving between his steps with dangerous grace. To his credit, he did not trip once this time. Ravage would have to try harder.

 

The dispenser and all the necessities for processing, storing and seasoning energon were located on a single countertop, in the far corner of the room. Nestled out of the way behind a roundtable. While Soundwave examined their reserves, Ravage took her place on the table.

 

If he divided the portions evenly, it would refuel each symbiont approximately 25%, leaving 15% intake for himself. Following this, what they had now would keep the party functional until the end of the mega-cycle. In the meantime, Soundwave would have to find a temporary, alternative source of work to make up for the loss. With all their resources going into overdue rent and medical bills, it meant they would be skirting by skid plates to make ends meet. It was a cycle it seemed. Every few deca-cycles just when things were looking up, Soundwave would find himself with yet more debt to pay. It was endless.

 

He poured Ravage a cube and set it before her. He waited for a beat, to confirm she was consuming what she needed before he set out the rations for the other three. This done, Soundwave consulted the clock. Everything was running precisely on time. Good.

 

He sent a warning ping to Laserbeak and the twins regardless. Informing them their fuel had been set out and he needed to leave soon. He received protests in reply. Soundwave would not fall for the bait. he waited for only two kliks and both the twins and Laserbeak emerged from the wash-rack. They had just enough time to scarf down their cubes before it was really time to get moving.

 

Soundwave held the door open, watched his little army as one by one they filed out the door. Laserbeak circled him twice, requesting permission to dock, which he readily gave. The door was locked, the key card filled away and off to work they went.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atypical day at work. Soundwave reluctantly goes to a bar for a discount, at a coworker's insistence.

In spite of a well timed departure, Soundwave found himself held up by traffic. The city was a busy hive of light and sound, a thousand frames and processors all determined to be somewhere, to do something. The ability to differentiate one body from another in the amalgam of cybertronian life which swarmed the city streets, bipedal and otherwise, was not one he processed. Every voice and emotion melted together into one convulsing mass. He had learned to tune it out. In transits, he turned blind to the thousands of faces and deaf to their voices. 

 

Soundwave arrived at the Polyhex Inner-city Library ten breems after the start of his shift. Soundlessly, he stepped through the back doors and signed in to the security panel behind the counter.

 

The Polyhex Library was multistory, worn bronze and emerald in color. Selves upon selves of arcane text lined the walls from floor to ceiling. In the very center of the library a large glass dome over looked it all. The head archivist was nowhere to be seen, from behind the counter he peered around a shelf or two but so far there was no one to yet witness his tardiness.

 

Put at ease he began his shift. Starting at first with sanitizing the tables and counters. Once the front desk had been cleaned off he began the monotonous task of processing returns. Holo-novels, films and general records could be returned to the archive via a slot next to the entrance, on the inside another unit moved the returned into a crate designated by time. This part of the process required little supervision though occasionally a holo-film would end up in a record's crates. Once the crate had been retrieved from the slot it was rolled to front to be scanned, tagged, and carted off in another crate to be returned to the record's proper shelving unit.

 

Soundwave began the second part of this process now. Gently retrieving each very thin device with nimble digits, a light tap, and slid it under scanner. Slide. Tap. Tap. Slide.

 

Such a monotonous task left much to be desired, Soundwave's thoughts often wondered while he worked. He spent 25% of his focus on the repetitive motions, enough to catch an error message when it flashed across the scanner or sense a disruption in the routine, but the rest of his focus rested on financial calculations, optimizing ration disputation, and now with the added task of scrolling through employment offers. Digits glided over another disk, sent it under the scanner, waited for the approving click and slid it into the corresponding crate. And repeat. And repeat.

 

His tunks rumbled uncomfortably and caused a slight shift in stance to compensate. 

 

On the wall across from him in the main lobby of the library, the joorly news flickered across a holo-screen.  _ 'What do you think of the new proposal Greenlight?' The reporter turned to face her companion, an appropriately green femme. _

 

_ 'I would say they are a long time coming, Lancer. It's about time the council started to support our new Prime's policies. We have been pushing for this for vorns.'   _

 

_ Lancer steepled her digits together, leaning forward. 'I heard there is dissension in the Senate, is this true?'  _

 

_ Greenlight scoffed in good humor. 'You don't know the half of it. You remember the conspiracy to spark-nap Senator Shockwave? Well, as it turns out-' _

 

In the peripherals of his vision, he saw and then felt the shifting focus on of a coworker. Orion Pax, a mech taller than himself by a helm, dull blue in color with accents of silver. The bot wore his spark on the shoulder pad and was accurately characterized as one of those bots who seemed to be unaware of how expressive their EM was. To his knowledge, the archivist could not help it. The effect for Soundwave was an amplified wave of emotion, much like a beacon, broadcasting the mech's emotions as they played out, breem by breem. He could appreciate the mechs presence in small doses. In good form, he was pleasant company but overwhelming for him due to the intensity of the mech’s spark. In a typical orn he did his best to either ignore the mech or smoother his range by concentrating on another subject when Orion Pax needed to be tolerated. 

 

There was an audible sigh and the shifting of large yet careful pedes.

 

"Soundwave,"  The clerk’s voice came gently from behind. Self-aware of the tone he used, there was purpose behind it. The mech shuffled the crate into place next to the desk. 

 

Orion Pax was also a deceptively prescriptive mech. Thoughts always churning, reshaping, lapses of concentration that honestly helped, atmospherically, to encourage his coworkers. 

 

Soundwave paused in his work for only an astro-second. Though he felt Orion's approach his sudden proximity came as a surprise. He would have to re-evaluate his ration intake, it was starting to affect his performance. He tilted his helm in the mech's direction in acknowledgement, than slid another disk under the scanner. Click. Click. Slide. Repeat.

 

Nervousness pulsed from the mech in waves. Orion felt awkward. There was hesitance in both frame and spark. Yet the undercurrent of compassion the mech always seem to feel, to wear like decal, gave the mech a sense of determination.

 

Orion seemed to resist a sigh at his acknowledgement. 

 

"Have you settled in? I know the work can be quite tedious... but rewarding, if you enjoy books. I- see you here quite often," Orion visibly winced. Cringing at the either some internal thought or perhaps that glitch in his vocalizer. It was a curious thing, and only seemed to be present when Orion spoke to certain individuals. Soundwave was one of the few to be honored on that list.

 

Soundwave considered his words for all of an astro-second. Small talk was not his forte. It never had been a strength and he had nothing to say to statements so blatant. Soundwave did not enjoy the work, no. He did not read for pleasure and he was here for the sole purpose of providing shelter and energon for his symbionts. Additionally, there were fewer bots here than in any other place of employment. He was rarely overwhelmed here. He could think here, process the world around him through sensory input without having to smother himself while doing so. In short his employment here was of convenience and necessity. Unfortunately it did not cover medical debt.

 

Slide. Click. Click. Slide.

 

The miniature wings on Soundwave’s back gave a twitch. Orion’s position made him feel ill at ease. It brought to mind vorn-old imaginary of betrayal and later incidences of intimidation. It was a position of vulnerability he did not care for. Momentarily he played with the idea of discouraging the mech’s proximity but quickly dismissed the thought. He tried to ignore him. 

 

Slide. Tap. A red light blinked innocently from the display screen of the scanner. He pulled the holo-disc aside, a small frown tugged the mutilated mesh of his lips downward. The title of the text read:  _ Intergalactic Travel; an invitation for rebellion? Or a wise use of resources? An interpretative Essay. _

 

"I apologize that I have been away, I was supposed to train you for the back stock, however the schedules...." Orion trailed off. 

 

Slide... his servo came to stop, to rest on the surface of the next holo-disc. His digits curled involuntarily. Something about the mech’s emotions caught Soundwave’s attention. Orion Pax felt guilt over this statement. It was a lie. Hesitance lay underneath it, though the care and sentiment was genuine it was not what the mech was apologizing for. He could not say for certain what it was however, there was simply not enough information available to him to guess and he did not care to pry.

 

“Apologies... unnecessary,” Soundwave too, could lie. It hurt somewhat to physically speak. “I will learn... when advised,” his spark beat rapidly increased and he felt cold suddenly. Anxiety crawled it’s sickly claws up his plating and sent icy tendrils deep within his lines. Soundwave took a moment to steady himself.

 

Orion faltered. He felt embarrassed. Did he realize he had been caught in a lie? No... it was another matter. "I... er, you know, there's a holo-novel club with the other staff. We don't always necessarily read  _ holo-novels--" _ The mech paused to clear his throat. "Soundwave, we are having a get together in the next orn in a small spa-- I know you must not like big crowds, so, it would be a good opportunity..." He trailed off and bit his lip. It was a very open gesture the mech had a habit of. Soundwave noted it as yet another tick indicating what he already knew.  _ Orion Pax was a nervous wreck. _

 

And then the meaning of his words struck him. Orion Pax was inviting him to a.... social commune. To talk... and have companionable banter, to be in near proximity in others for the sole purpose of being. The idea was so absurd, Soundwave turned around to face the mech. Bewildered. 

 

Despite having no facial features to show just how ridiculous the thought was, Soundwave hoped the blank, incredulous stare he sent the archivist made its point. He did not do social outings. It was simply not done. For numerous reasons, for too many to name he did not participate in such folly, but namely, he could not stand the proximity for the intensity of emotions he felt so close to another cybertronian. 

 

Symbionts were a different story. They were symbionts. Symbionts possessed a unique ability to adapt to the frame of their host. To him, the emotions of symbionts felt softer, quieter, manageable. They were attuned to him as he was to them.

 

“Soundwave... you have an excellent work ethic but... I am... concerned." Another pause.“I think it would be beneficial for you to... take a break sometime. Refuel. Relax...” 

 

.... but a spa? With the very same coworkers who felt as much disdain towards him as he felt towards them? _No._   
  


Orion’s emotions swirled, spinning: a fuzzy haze of concern, longing, a desire to help and an ever present nervousness. Finally, Orion admitted them aloud, and now verbally confronted by the mech’s empathy, Soundwave felt something in his intake hitch. A numb, sickly, unpleasant feeling. Shame. Humiliation. 

 

Soundwave’s dark servos curled around the edge of the desk now behind him. The cabling of his neck felt tight. If this had been vorns ago- before the attack, before the trial- “No,” His voice sounded groggy, low, scratchy from lack of use and a pitch deeper than it ought to be. “My hours are manageable and necessary-“ A pause to vent but he managed to grind out the rest. “-Concern is appreciated but not needed.”

 

The clerk’s emotions swelled. Disbelief and instant disagreement among them. Orion was not falling for his bluff.

 

"It is-- I am, I would rather enjoy your company, at least. I'm... sure you would enjoy it. I've been to this place before, its been-- a while, but." Here once again the mech faltered, wilting under his blank stare. It seemed to finally unsettle the clerk and for a brief hopeful moment Soundwave thought he might have succeeded in dissuading him from pursuing this route. 

 

Those hopes were dashed when compassion swelled in its place.

 

"Please?" Embarrassment warmed the mechs cheeks, flooding from his optics a dusting glow of blue that only served to mortify himself. "I would simply like to spend time with my friend."

 

Soundwave was forced to reset his optics. The mechs field was so brilliantly sincere with concern, he could see the glow of emotions rippling from his spark in waves. Several thoughts ran through his processor, he had to wonder on Orion’s prescriptiveness. That he seemed so sure, so confident, he was willing to call him out on his bluff.

 

It was a sly tactic too, to play on his emotions like that. Twice more than Orion would ever realize. Soundwave felt Orion’s plea because he felt so strongly himself. Even as the mechs deeply empathetic optics drifted to his helm, his mask, to stare where his optics were underneath- Soundwave dropped his gaze momentarily, and thought the situation absurdly unfair- under that curiosity it was the kindness that ultimately undid his resolve.

 

“O-Orion-“ he reset his vocalizer quickly. Frustration brewing with its inability to cooperate. He exhaled, vents feeling all the more heavy for it. “... next orn. Next orn, will be more acceptable.” Soundwave felt sure his former handler would have laughed at him.

 

Surprise lit Orion’s optics, followed by elation. The mech made an aborted move, stopping mid-way. Soundwave could only be swept away by the wave of emotions that washed over him. The pure unadulterated joy of Orion Pax was in a word, luminous.

 

"That's-- wonderful! Thank you, Soundwave. I-- one moment," he quickly rummaged through his subspace, pulling free a slightly-wrinkled coupon. "Here, this-- I,  _ ahm _ , just take this," Orion held the small item out to him, clearly hopeful he would take it.

 

Soundwave stared at the offered item with the trepidation of a mech expecting a foreign substance to bite his sensory array. He took it with some resistance. The coupon was to an energon establishment called Riggby's. He inclined his helm to Orion, a show of gratitude he didn't much feel. Did he really want to go to this establishment? No. Did he plan to go? No, not at all. But when he slipped the coupon into his subspace the action seemed to appease Orion somewhat. With the promise to go out with the mech the next orn the crisis was averted. 

 

The brilliance of the archivist's smile left him in a stupor for breems afterward.

 

* * *

  
  
  


Yet at the end of the orn, Soundwave found himself at the very same oil-house as displayed on the coupon. In the end, it had not been Orion’s insistence but the series of warning bombarding his hub, and the lethargy that came with low fuel reserves that swayed his decision. The ache in his joints would only increase with time. What good was a coupon if he didn’t use it?

 

The place had a retro feel to it. He did not have enough information to conclude for certain, but the architecture suggested it was constructed sometime during the height of the last Golden Age. With sweeping grand arcs, an emphasis on the look and feel of highly valued gemstones. A sign above the double doors at the entrance read ‘ _ Riggby's'  _ in neon lighting. A security bot stood here, but did not question him. To Soundwave's surprise he simply let him through.

 

The moment his pede touched lightly on the smooth tile flooring, Soundwave nearly turned around. It was bustling. A swarm of individuals. Most grounders, construction bots, blue collar mecha. The aroma of intoxication was offensive. An assault on his overly sensitive array. The wave of elated emotion that washed over him too was overwhelming. He felt the daze of fabricated high and swam through it. The establishment was clearly high class in light of this. Well maintained, kept clean. There was not a scratch or dent in sight. The acoustics too were well refined.

 

A slightly irritated EM brushed against his own. Soundwave stepped aside, swifting allowing the mech behind him to pass. He waited a beat. Indecisive. But soon felt the security bot's attention shift to him. Not in concern, or suspicious. Curious, but alert. The coupon for discounted energon burned in his palm, it was finally the pang of hunger that complied Soundwave to step up to the bar.

 

The bartender, an aged truck-former femme, smiled at his approach. A true novelty. “What can I do you for?” He gave her the coupon, attention wavering between her professional and vaguely cheerful field to the holo-screen above the counter. Displayed across the screen was the joorly newsreel, a rehash of the same report he had seen at work, though he had not seen the later segment. Displayed across the grainy screen _ ; Lancer asked the new Prime a series of questions. To which the Prime answered optimistically. He gave the reporter a bright, surgery sweet smile. _

 

“The silent type huh,” the femme said as she took the coupon. She gazed back at him with a wink. “You've got a friend looking out for you I see. I'll get you the house special. Standard-grade I take it?” 

 

He nodded, distracted.

 

Cube in hand, Soundwave retreated to the furthest empty table he could find. It was in the corner and secluded from wondering optics, just how he liked it.

 

Away from all the noise, at a distance were no EM could touched his, Soundwave tried to relax. He chose a seat closest to the wall, so his back and delicate wings would face no one and he could see the approach of any mecha. It was a position that allowed him a moment of security, a sense of control. The paranoia was getting to him, he knew, but it was too tempting to not indulge it.

 

A sharp pang in his tanks reminded him why he was here, and with unsteady digits, he slipped his mask up to take a cautious sip from his cube.

 

It was good. Really good. He could tell from just that one sip that the refinement was of excellent quality, it would be safe for him to drink. Warmth washed down his throat and settled deep into dry lines. He rolled the flavor around in his mouth, allowing his optics to flutter off for a beat. His mask clicked back into place as he waited, enjoying the moment.

 

“Ya got everything you need?” 

 

A snap and reality broke the fantasy of solitude in two.

 

In front of the table stood a silver and black mech. A blue visor stretched across a gray faceplate underneath a black helm, adorned with audial nodes and a dazzling, all too disarming smile. The bot had one servo on his hip and the other holding a tablet. Coy, relaxed and much too friendly for his tastes. There was an almost flirty edge to the mech’s smile, crooked on one end. Accenting a chip on the rim of the mech’s visor on the same side. A reckless mech then too, if that and the tiny, barely visible scratches across the surface were anything to go by. 

 

Soundwave decided he did not like this mech.

 

A long pause elapsed, too long to be polite and just long enough to be awkward. Tension stirred in the field of the waiter while the mech waited. The encounter would not end until he answered, would it? “...yes,” His vocalizer popped uncomfortably from disuse, low and crackled.

 

The mech beamed, perfectly unfazed. “Cool. Designation’s Jazz. Whatever you want I gotcha covered this cycle. Send me a ping and I'll be right with ya.” A wink.

 

Soundwave gave a nod, after a moment, focus drifting as it became unbearably hard to processor immediate input. Impatient for the mech to leave, he gazed down at the cube clutched between his servos and hoped the mech would get the message. 

 

Instead of leaving, the silver mech leaned forward. What could more could he possibly want? “You know I haven't seen ya around here before. Here at the  _ Riggby's  _ we like to make our customers feel welcome. Which why I'd recommend the 'Vosian Whiplash'! My mech, I gotta tell you, it's best high grade you'll ever have. I don't know why sweetspark over there doesn't put it on the specialty menu.” Jazz shrugged, an air of nonchalance as Soundwave struggled to maintain his calm. “It's got the house special  _ beat _ .”

 

Paranoia was like the slow crawling magma of a corrupted core. It send ever reaching and ever probing tendrils to direct and consume all semblance of self-control. For no other reason Soundwave extended his reach, listening to the emotional beat of the mech’s spark. It required a considerable amount of concentration to do this in a crowded environment, the artificial buzz of intoxication threatened to overwhelm his senses.    
  
Soundwave tuned out the one sided conversation. Jazz’s lips moved. The probing light from the bar’s ceiling flashed neon over silver plates, blue glass, and the prick of white denta. To Soundwave, all was silent, sans the mech’s pulsing spark. 

 

He could often predict the actions of another mech based on how they felt. The skill had served well him in vorns past. If the mech felt strongly about something he could pick up details of the subject of the emotional attachment. But never thoughts, never imagery, only vague impressions.

 

On the surface, Jazz felt no different than any other mech. The same confidence emitted in his field, clung to his spark like the fog that so gripped the beginning cycle of every orn within the city limits. The kind of confidence that came with the knowledge of expertise, repetition. There was no malicious intent, no suggestion the mech took glee from his discomfort, or even suspected his state to begin with. Yet the paranoia persistent. Every optic felt a voltage too bright, but there was nothing to suggest the scrutiny came from his waiter. 

 

Soundwave reeled back. In an nano-klik he was brought back to the present. Jazz's smooth, ambling voice came into focus among a sea of boisterous laughter and a jovial atmosphere. “Are ya expecting anyone?” A gesture towards the empty seats and again with that curious smile.

 

Thoroughly uncomfortable in the bots company, Soundwave considered his response. It was true, he had chosen a table set for more than one. The bot might be scared off if he thought Soundwave expected a group. And so he picked a number that would be large enough to be intimidating, yet just small enough to not illicit surprise. With a stiff nod, he admitted to expecting a fictional company of: “Four,”

 

Jazz's visor brightened. “Oh sweet, having a regular party here huh?”

 

Soundwave nodded and than turned his helm pointedly towards the entrance. “I am here early.”

 

There was quirk to the silver mech's lips, a brief purse, blinded by a laughing smile. “Cool, cool. Well I won't keep ya.” With a swagger to his step the silver mech took a step back with a parting reassurance to call on him should he need anything, and finally, finally Jazz wove his way back through the sea of tables.

 

Soundwave dragged both servos down the surface of his mask, exhaling a deep vent.

 

_ Thank Unicron. _

 

As soon as he finished his cube he was  _ leaving. _

 

It took two breems to finish. He spent that time warily waiting for the silver mech to make a reappearance. He saw a flash of silver through the crowd a few times, and felt the heavy focus of those optics once or twice more but the mech did not make a second appearance.

 

Anxiety got the best of him. Soundwave stood, placed the needed amount of credit on the table, and took one quiet step after another towards the exist. As he left, a group of four dark mecha entered. One bumped shoulder pads with him, a husky growl that sent a shiver down his backstrut. “Watch it,” Soundwave did not acknowledge, but he did quicken his pace.

 

* * *

  
  


On the way back to the domicile complex, Soundwave met up with Ravage. He took the backstreets this time, forgoing the high-speed stream and the congested air traffic typical of this joor. The start of the lunar-cycle was the second busiest time of orn, next to the peak of the solar-cycle. There existed several lulls between the two but as with most inner-city state traffic these times could rarely be predicted.

 

The feline waited for him in a back alley, under the awning of hub-suite. The alley was not frequently visited others, the orn he and Ravage realized this, Soundwave set up a temporary beacon here on the global navigation system spared between symbiont and deloyer. If anything went wrong this was where they would meet.

 

The typical flier would find the space claustrophobic. He did not. On the contrary, as many things Soundwave did were, he found the enclosed space comforting. It was familiar. He had grown accustomed to tight, enclosed spaces, to the point where he now relied on them.

 

Ravage slaughter up to rub her chin on the brace of his legstrut. A light purr of her engine and she weaved her way around his pedes until he conceded defeat and bent over to lift her into his arms.

 

“Ravage: Report.” He stroked her helm, nimble digits rubbed circles behind the feline's audials nodes.

 

“Well, since you so polite to ask of my status first. The orn went well. My position thus far as been lucrative, but I will not get paid again until next mega-cycle, after your deadline. My employer will not agree to pay me in advance.”

 

Soundwave let out a shaky exhale. His servo stilled. This did not please her, so she pressed her helm into his palm once more, insisting on more petting. “There is a silver lining. I heard of a company in the area who are hiring.” She paused, cautious. He knew her too well and dread crept down his protoform.

 

“The catch.” He prompted when it seemed she would not continue.

 

“The catch, is that their activities are highly suspect.”

 

“No,” He said immediately. He could not afford that either. His parole had ended just a deca-cycle ago after six grueling vorns. It was already difficult enough to find accommodations given his history, employment would only get harder. No. He needed to stay clean. Stay out of trouble. Stay out of the limelight and far, far away from Law Enforcement.

 

Ravage nodded, having already expected his reaction. “I'll keep looking, but at some point Soundwave you're going to have to settle. Our employment system worked well until medical debt started to pile up. We can't continue to do what what we have been.” Her voice was low, stern. It was not what he wanted to hear, but they both knew he needed to hear it anyway.

 

Soundwave vented, spark heavy. “Options are available. Save this offer as a last resort.”

 

A delighted chirr chimed above them. Laserbeak circled over, finally coming to land on the metal piping which supported the awning above. Her little claws clanged lightly on the surface. Soundwave greeted her by angling his helm upwards in a show of what would have been optic contact.

 

“Master, Frenzy and Rumble are stuck in traffic! They told me not to tattle, so I did!” The little flier puffed up her chest, smug pride overflowing into their bond.

 

He didn't want to ask but it didn't matter, Ravage asked for him. “What did they  _ do _ ?”

 

“They dropped paint balls on a cop!” Laserbeak replied with barely concealed enthusiasm. 

 

That was the exact opposite of what he needed right now.

 

Ravage met his look with bright red optics. “I'll retrieve them.”

 

Nodding his approval Soundwave called Laserbeak to him. The rest of the joor went smoothly. He made two more stops on the way home, inquiring about employment from local businesses. The location was ideal but primarily it was the kind of work they offered that drew his attention. It was the kind he could do and the pay from working part time at either would solve the problem of rent. He spoke to the owners of both storefronts, but to his disappointment they both dismissed him. There was no mention of an interview.

 

On the way out he gave the sign that read: _ 'Now Hiring!' _ a hard stare.

 

When Rumble and Frenzy returned home that lunar-cycle, they were subjected to the silent treatment for their recklessness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave follows through with his deal with Orion Pax. They are joined by an unanticipated guest.

 

Soundwave had never felt nervous going to work before. Never. It was routine, it was planned, meditated, scheduled and timed. He got up in the morning before the city, before the symbionts, he checked on each one, scrolled through the news-feeds, checked on the status for each symbiont for the orn and took a bath-- which took two breems longer than average. It was not Soundwave stepping out of the tub first but Ravage and then Laserbeak. The twins left only as he stood.

  
  
The cubes were filled before he reached the table. It was odd. Baffling. From one klik to the next his actions seemed to lag behind. Despite his efforts. By the time his symbionts were adequately fed they were a breem behind schedule. The rest of the orn followed the same pattern. He arrived kliks before he could be considered late and spend the first half of his shift making up the difference, however unnoticed it was to the rest of the staff.

  
  
By the end of the last working joor, Soundwave very much considered leaving before Orion took notice. But the universe had never been so kind.

  
  
As if in a trance, the last holo-novel clicked into place under the near-weightless touch of his servo, cold and metallic under the ball of his palm. The last task of the cycle complete, Soundwave could have left. He could have left and unceremoniously canceled his plans with Orion. But he had not, he kept to his word, however, set adrift in this whirlwind of orn. Even from across the library he felt the warm sun that was Orion; anxious, anticipation, joy, excitement— it felt much like having been locked in a closet for a good joor only to have someone toss a lit lightbulb at his face. And now that bubbling ball of rays shone through the gaps, brighter and brighter as it approached and caught sight of him, waiting.

 

"Soundwave! How was your shift?"

The dazzling smile Orion gave was perhaps the most useless thing he had ever laid his optics on. The blue bot’s attempt at subtlety was laughable. His joy and excitement shown through his field unfiltered besides and to Soundwave, the happiness Orion exuded shone like a beacon regardless and rendered any attempt to conceal it mute. Soundwave ex-vented, willing himself to make the same effort.

  
“Acceptable.” He intoned. The steadiness of his own voice came as surprise. He did not feel so collected. The orn had felt rushed. At the verge of disaster. Studies of high society suggested that he should return polite banter and ask the same of Orion, but the words did not come so easily. For some semblance of security, he reached out to the four bonds tethered to his spark, listening to the distant hum. He could vaguely sense their state, it was as it should be. They were fine, he was fine.

  
  
He wondered where Orion had in mind. Madame’s Lightwit downtown? Perhaps unfortunately close to the seedier side of the city but nonetheless decent. The wrecker there ran a fine establishment, though on a tight budget. Soundwave had known the mech’s bonded, for a brief time... the flier shot dead four deca-cycles after their meeting.

 

Or perhaps Orion had Holicrest’s place in mind. A less seedy area, yet affordable. Which seemed more in line with what he knew of Orion’s character. On further thought however... no, Holicrest’s had shut down a deco-cycle ago due to tax evasion. Other establishments crossed his mind however he dismissed them, such places were far too expensive.

  
Orion tilted his helm, smile widening a fraction. "I hope you will find this evening acceptable as well!" The vortex of the mech’s emotions were too vibrant for Soundwave to make sense of. Overwhelming; so he tamped down on the sensation. "That is-- if you are still coming?"  

 

What an absurd thing to suggest. Soundwave had been anticipating this venture all cycle; if he backed out now, it would make suffering through the anxiety and stress of the entire a cycle a complete waste. There was nothing he hated more than wasted time. Instinctively, he wanted to answer such a ridiculous question with a simple ’affirmative.’ but Orion was neither a superior nor a handler, it would have come across as too formal. He settled instead on a simple; “Yes,” and if his blank stare suggested Orion was a fool for assuming Soundwave would back out of their agreement last minute- well, that was on him.

  
  
Having already stored away everything that needed to be, Soundwave stepped out from behind the counter. He was ready to leave, any time now. He was not one for small talk, not when the sentiment expressed did not have a purpose. “...when are we expected?” Was this an acceptable attempt? He certainly hoped so.

 

Could he smile any brighter at him? For Orion Pax, the answer was yes. The clerk’s helm dipped as he accepted this simple response, servos clasping together over his spark. "I'm glad!"

  
As the mech left his station, Orion took a step to the side to offer him space. Recognizing somehow his need for it. These little acts of kindness- of consideration were baffling. Orion Pax was very confusing. "Oh! We have plenty of time to get there. I made sure we wouldn't have to rush." he replied.

 

Soundwave reset his optics and resolved to not stare directly at Orion again. Much like it was inadvisable to stare directly at the sun, it was inadvisable to encourage the mech in any way, shape for form, for the poor mech might lose the ability to form any other expression. He also entirely disagreed. He was in a rush to get there. To get there and get it over with.

 

Since it seemed to be what Orion had in mind, Soundwave led the way out of the library. At an even, steady pace of course, though his stride was no less purposeful. The clerk spoke idle chatter for the rest of the journey. And the further they traveled the more confused Soundwave felt.

 

Polished streets, spotless towers of ivory, bronze and the facade of marble. Crystal structures became the centerpieces of plazas and street corners. Ancient, having grown in height to rival even mecha with stature to rival Orion. Lights no longer flickered but provided a steady and at times colorful glow. Even the glass of the windows were dyed, stained with pleasing colors.

  
  
Soundwave felt so incredibly out of place. He stuck out, surely. The mecha here had not a hairline fracture, dent or scruff, they were even more polished than the spotless streets they strolled down. They wore decals for the sake of it. Forged with more elaborate crests and elegant models than their peers. If there was ever a class divide to be seen it was here. It was not a facade of luxury but the real deal.

 

Orion Pax did not stick out, surprisingly. A fact which grew more evident the further they walked, he did not earn the curious looks Soundwave did, but it was more than that. It was something in the way he held himself with such ease here, with such knowing stride. If Soundwave was not focusing his utmost to not get lost in the faceless swarm of the upper class he would have given this point more thought. But the frames and sparks of the masses melted together and it was all he could do to not become overwhelmed by it.

 

”Just a block that way and we’re there.”

  
Soundwave nodded, processing the words after a moment, swimming through the ever-present mess of emotion and intent. He gravitated closer to Orion during the final stretch.

  
  
When they came upon the building he stopped in his tracks. The frontal facade was framed by columns. _Columns._ Ivory and a crystal growth that wound its way up the exterior walls of the building like tendrils, reaching for the star above Cybertron. The entryway shielded by a porch two stories above, and the staircase leading to rivaled the Polyhex City Library in grandeur.

 

He stared in disbelief. He felt Orion’s presence step into place beside him. Soundwave swerved his helm and directed that stare at Orion. He did not need to voice the thought but it left his vocalizer before he could smother it. “... expensive. From what fund have you stolen, Orion Pax?” Hoarse from lack of use, the words crackled, an uncomfortable pop at certain sounds. It was not a joke. It was a serious question and accusation.

  
It surprised the clerk enough to genuinely drive him to laugh. It bubbled up unyieldingly, a bright burst in his spark he could never anticipate. Orion Pax smiled, bright, and resisted, just barely, an inexplicable urge of affection. "Only my own!"

 

Soundwave shuttered his optics. Ever thankful his expression could not be seen.

 

The walk from the grand entrance, under the balcony to the set of double doors which led to what he could only assume would be his slow, painful demise, could not end fast enough.

 

The host, a rather colorful bot gave Orion a warm smile as he approached the counter. Behind his mask, Soundwave squinted. The host knew who Orion Pax was, in a way that felt too inviting to imply he was a new client.

 

The mecha seated delicately in the lobby just beyond the counter; with glossy finish and crystal clear optics; sent Soundwave a stunned look. An elderly flyer, in particular, did a double take and managed to look twice as aghast the second time around. It was only at this point, having led Soundwave all the way here, that the clerk to seemed to have doubts. Soundwave’s frame type was distinctive, Orion could not deny this no matter where he took him.

 

"Cloudfire, it's good to see you! I see you did go with that new color, then? Ah- yes, the reservation for Orion Pax," Once again more perceptive than anticipated, Orion shifted his weight, offering shelter; a distraction for those wondering optics. It was an effective strategy and Soundwave certainly did _not_ find himself leaning into it. That would be absurd.

  
  
"I certainly did darling~" The host coo'd. "You lucky mech, you get one of our most popular suites this orn. Nexus Sanctuary, our largest for the very best," She winked, slipping a keycard smoothly across the counter. "Enjoy yourself now. Third room in the back."

  
  
That sounded expensive. How did Orion afford this on a clerk’s salary? Did he descend from the silver ladle? A rich creator? Soundwave followed the motions of the mech's frame with his gaze, still in every other way as he puzzled this inquiry.

 

"I apologize for my tardiness." The double doors swung shut with a click, the lights of the city beyond the glass, engulfed by half by a truly massive mech. Blue, broad, silver faceplate complete with a yellow visor and a stern lower lip.

  
He could not see the mech's optics but at once felt the mech's undivided attention. Tension laced the larger bots frame like an ivory poison, steeped, heavy. Like smoke. And so too did suspicion and exasperation come with it. A sense of duty, devotion. Directed towards the mech Soundwave stood in the shadow of... another bot who seemed to know Orion. This one, in particular, had a bond with Orion. Soundwave could not see the tangible string, but he could feel it now. ... a sibling bond.

 

Surprise for the sudden outburst melted all too quickly to fondness, exasperation, and delight all at once. The clerk turned, optics resetting as he locked optics with the mech. "Magnus! You are not late, we are just early." The tension seemed to be mutual.

  
Orion took the initiative to introduce them and said something quietly to Magnus he could not hear. Soundwave watched the exchange between the two, still in every aspect, aside from the flickering of his optics, darting from one to the other. Orion stepped between them- and it was such an odd thing. He was not used to another mech offering such blatant protection. Much less from another, a sibling, that was supposedly expected here. The orn just kept getting odder.

  
  
Magnus's lips parted, he raised his servo, as if to debate a point but seemed to think better of it. He turned to Soundwave and with very stiff measure and offered a servo to shake. Soundwave stared at him, then his large servo.

 

"Greetings. It is a pleasure to meet you." Magnus said in a clipped tone. Choking out each word with the same cadence Ravage used when she chewed on the husks of scraplets. "Do you enjoy your work?... at the library."

  
  
Soundwave decided he would not shake this mech's servo. He continued to stare. Magnus stared back. Nerves seemed to bleed from Orion’s field as those bright blue optics shifted between the two of them.

  
  
"Well then!" The host chirped, entirely interrupting. She couldn't have come at a better time. "Now that we're all here. Follow me please, I will guide you to your suite~"

On their way to the suite, Orion offered some level of reassurance that Magnus was not malicious in intent. Somehow thinking his brethren would warm up to Soundwave. Soundwave did not believe him but saw no point in responding.

  
The host led them to a private octagon shaped room with a grand, for lack of a better term, pool surrounded on all sides by columns. Sculpted crystals hung from the ceiling. Holo-screens of scenic vestas from all across Cybertron displayed themselves on each of the eight walls. A bubbling fountain rose from the center of the pool and opposing the entry, solvent oils cascaded down a false stairwell from the ceiling.

  
  
All possible amenities were available for use on adjacent spherical tables. From the moment the doors opened and to the moment the host left, Soundwave stood in a stupor. The sheer size of the space was difficult to process. It could well fit 50 mecha comfortably. Added to it was also the upsetting notion that he would be bathing with two mechs.

  
Magnus, like Soundwave, stood stock still staring at the pool. At the same time, Magnus turned to Orion to say; “Was the reservation of this space truly necessary?” Soundwave simultaneously turned to Orion to reiterate; “Which bank did you _liquidate_?”

  
  
Magnus stared holes into the back of Soundwave helm and Soundwave tried not to feel stricken by the attention.

 

Orion blinked. Suddenly assaulted by dual voices-- asking, ultimately the same exact question.

  
  
A smile crawled its way across his lips-- and only grew, until the bubble in his chest burst and he did the only thing he could do. He laughed. Bright and unexpected-- the sound, the whoosh of air in his vents was unstoppable. It took him far too long to come down, amused as he was.

  
"Well! I have sources-- and you two agree on something at least." He shot them both a grin. "I assume you both would like your space? Instead of knee-to knee... I could ask for a smaller room, if you wish..."

 

Soundwave's internal software shouted at him to protest. Orion _should_ request a smaller room. Of course, he would rather have his own space, but there was a sizemetic margin between knee to knee and the current dimensions of this space! He felt flabbergasted, flustered at Orion's laughter- his fans whirled, an ambient hum in his audials.

  
Magnus looked down at Soundwave, then the pool and quickly muttered. "Well now that we are already here. I suppose it wouldn't hurt..." The towering mech reluctantly began walking towards the steps leading into the pool. He became distracted from claiming the position of first to enter, however, by the sponges and other instruments on a nearby table. His visor angled towards Orion, as though waiting for him to make the first step into the pool.

  
  
Platting clamping down, Soundwave took to the other side leaving the clerk alone in the center.

 

Magnus slowly lowered himself into the solvent soon after the clerk took his first step. He sucked in a sharp intact as the oil rose to his hip joints than as he wade deeper up to his mid-torso. "This is.... surprisingly warm.".

  
  
Suddenly Ravage's great reluctance to bath in a wet substance felt relatable. With great unease, Soundwave dipped one agile pede in, then the other, tension growing as well as oil seeped in through the seams of his plating, cables and delicate wiring that even tight armor could not fully seal. The solvent rose to the height of his chassis, lapping just shy of his throat and finial array on either side of his helm. He did not leave the edge and kept one servo on the rim.

  
  
"... you are not going to remove your mask?" Magnus rumbled, the solvent rippled with the vibration.

  
  
The small winglets down his back twitched downward but Soundwave gave no indication he intended to reply because he didn't. It was none of the mech's business.

 

“Magnus,” Orion winced.

  
  
The clerk turned and wadded over. “I know this all must be... a lot, but try not to worry. It’s nothing. I had a favor to pull from the owner, she had been particularly late with her returns one too many times.”

 

Soundwave held in an ex-vent, frame coiling against his will at Orion Pax's approach.  He listened, focusing on slowing the whirring fans and the way his circuits heated up with unease in preparation for- for a nonsensical threat which did not exist.

  
  
Orion was genuine- the mech felt concerned, worried, he was motivated by compassion. the explanation he gave was not quite the truth but it was not quite a lie. Spark racing, a heavy thrum in its chamber, Soundwave attempted to alleviate Orion's concern. "- a sizable favor," his words crackle, betraying the tension he was trying to move past. "-you a clerk."

 

Orion bobbed his helm obediently, expression softer somehow. There was an amused note to his voice as he spoke. "I do many a librarian's service. She couldn't help but oblige."

  
  
Satisfied, Orion gave a shallow bow before turning to Magnus. "Brother, you must release the tension in your back strut in order for the oils to get in,"

 

Magnus adopted a scandalized look. “Orion...”

 

Soundwave tuned out the rest of the conversation. Their words washed over his audials and faded into the quiet ambiance.

  
  
The following joor passed at the pace of an oil slick. Soundwave was not comfortable openly bathing. Though he attempted a light wash, every moment he felt the gaze of the two mechs he found himself clamping up. Despite this, he did not find himself regretting the experience. On the contrary, it was... pleasant.

When everything that could be done at a spa had been done, Soundwave waited only for Orion Pax to finally sigh: “Well, I suppose we can’t remain here indefinitely,” though he sounded as though he would very much like to- as que to drag himself free from the depths of the pool. His joints felt oddly stringy, plating weightless.

 

Orion and Magnus took considerably longer. The larger of the two emitting a low groan as he exited the pool and dried off. Orion moved with lethargy, and though nothing on cybertron could deafen the shimmer of the mech’s spark, something about the experience had mellowed him out. Miraculously.

  
“I enjoyed this,” Orion said to him as they left. Easy graceful smile, full of the warmth Soundwave had come to reluctantly know. “Thank you for coming with me, Soundwave.” He executed a shallow bow in gratitude. Unable to convey to him in the words that the feeling was mutual, Soundwave mirrored the gesture with a dip of his helm.

 

Before Orion and his brother parted ways with him. Magnus caught his optic, a note of respect flickered in the mech’s field. Though it was quickly smothered by stoic professionalism, Soundwave came to the startling realization that Orion Pax had been correct. This absurd fact stuck with him as he returned to his domicile and somehow, he felt lighter for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 5-16-19: Minor Edits, grammatical changes, and spelling errors fixed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unusual day at work and afterward.

The monotonous tapping of the controls came to a slow stop. The sound was not loud, not enough to echo through the empty atmosphere of the main lobby, but the distinct lack of those sharp clicks broke his immersion. From the corner of the scene, a small message box demanded his attention. The light was yellow and obnoxious. 

 

Any break in his routine Soundwave found irksome, but insidious little thing demanded his immediate attention and if it was a notification from whom he suspected, it would not benefit him to ignore it. He smoothly scanned the contents. The head archivist, who could not be bothered to travel the distance from his office into the archives main lobby below, was urgently demanding his assist upstairs. This was not typical. This was not usual behavior from his superior and he did not like it.

  
  
As his previous irritation transitioned into the ever-present ache in his joints and the tightly coiled discomfort in his abdomen, Soundwave pulled away from the console, grappling for a moment with the stiffness. 

  
  
The head archivist was waiting for him at his desk. Gold crested helm bent over his private consol, cerulean optics moving slowly over the contents of the data-pad in his servo. Tyrest, as far as superiors went, had always struck Soundwave as mech who prioritized order and regulation. The mech’s immediate workspace reflected this.

 

The head archivist desk sat in the center of the space with a grand arching window behind it, filtered light in through the technicolor glass. Despite this, the light was considerable darker here than the main lobby. Everything from the desk itself, to the floor to ceiling shelves framing it, were positively pristine. There was little of personal effects here, save for a single frame on the desk, displaying the holo-image of a smiling sparkling. Tyrest turned off the frame with a sharp click, perhaps sensing it was subject to attention.

 

The mutual desire to keep things efficient as possible was about all Soundwave shared with his boss. The head archivist had made it very clear where he stood. 

  
  
Soundwave did not speak. He waited to be addressed. 

  
  
Another klik passed, Tyrest set the data-pad aside, straightening the column of his backstrut up right. “Soundwave,” Tyrest began, Soundwave instantly clamped down on his sensors, already disliking the mood the head archivist was in. 

 

“We are, unfortunately, understaffed this orn. Usually, I would ask Orion to file these release permissions to the state, but he already has his servos full with another task.” Tyrest frowned. “These blasted things refused to be uploaded to the network, I do not have time to troubleshoot myself. Fix it. And if necessary, delivery them directly to the directory. That is all.” 

  
  
The mech passed over two data-slugs. Soundwave took them with the same amount of reluctance and contemplation they were delivered with. 

 

* * *

  
  


Troubleshooting from the comfort of his usual console back in the main lobby of the archive, revealed, in light of Soundwave’s hope and dread, that the issue had not been with Tyrest’s private console as he had initially suspected. He refreshed the program, with needle prick pricing skimming through the software the reports were housed, careful to avoid actually scanning the contents, and found no error. Nor was it the size of the file which prevented it from sending.    
  
Ex-venting, Soundwave pulled away from the console. If he had more time, he was sure he would eventually find the issue. But the library’s returns waited for no mech. The longer he wasted time on an uncooperative file, the longer it would take to tackle the ever-growing stack. 

 

Manually delivering the file would force him to leave the library, but the destination was not far, it would take a breem at most if air traffic was heavy. A primitive measure but necessary. Sometimes, the most reliable way to get something done was to do it yourself. And Soundwave had a routine to keep.    
  
As he moved, leaning back from the counter a sharp pang shot through his abdomen, Soundwave stilled. Digits gripping the edge of the counter until it passed, arched, the delicate cabling writhing pulled tight. 

  
When it passed, he continued with his intended action noting the incident but buried it under a tall list of higher priorities. The device gave a soft satisfying click as he withdrew the data-slugs from the console.     
  


He sent a quick message to his superior, notifying the mech of his departure and left to deliver the file. 

 

* * *

 

 

Cool air slipped under his wings, the updraft a palm to the taught wires underneath the lithe platting. The ebb and flow of the city pulsed beneath him, an unintelligible mass of light, emotion, and color. A thick undercurrent tugging on his sensors but one he tried his best to ignore. 

 

The flight would not take long. The destination was within a few kliks of the library. Many a clerk had made this unfortunate errand before. One would think, given the importance of the archive and the information shared between it and the rest of the state that the infrastructure of the network would be better maintained, but the truth of the matter was with systems so large occasional errors were inevitable. 

 

Soundwave dipped his wing left, angling the panels of his wings forward in a smooth descent when a strange sensation came over his field. A discomforting prickle, cold, thin as a wire. As though a steel wire had been plucked from the column of his backstrut.  _ Focus.  _ Optics following his flight path from somewhere on the street. 

 

Soundwave swung his attention towards the sensation, following it. For a brief moment, an astro-second at most, it was within his reach, but as he neared the ground it faded- muddled, lost to the ambient mass of the city. A whisper lost to the powerful rapids of static noise. 

 

Soundwave transformed, one pede following the other as he landed. His heel clicked on the pavement. There was a hesitation in his step in time to the rapid beating his spark, but there was no mech behind him, no change in the slow pulse of the crowd. No obvious sign another bot had their helm turned in his direction.

 

_ A threat that wasn’t there,  _ he reminded himself. This would not be the first time paranoia played a trick on his processor. It would not be the last. Fliers occasionally attracted attention regardless, this was not unusual. But no rational explanation could ease the frantic fluttered within his core. 

 

The file was delivered to the directory in a timely silent manner if the manager of the directory felt at all awkward with his presence, Soundwave did not notice. By the time he left the building he had calmed himself, and no further incidents occurred on his return flight to the archive.

 

It was a one-off incident he would have otherwise dismissed. Were it not for the sensation’s return.

 

Halfway to the domicile, close enough in proximity to feel the symbiotic bond strengthen in earnest, he caught it again. A thin prickle. Wire’s width of sensation, from the streets below trailing the length of his wingspan. Unmistakably the same  _ focus _ . It was so light, on any other orn he would not have given it notice were not for the familiarity.

 

The optics followed him for several blocks.  _ Keen. Observing. _ One klick turned to ten, and it  _ followed  _ him. 

 

He followed the faces of the crowd, diverting a good 70% of his processor to the throngs of mecha down below but each and every face melted together. Senseless to his processor as one massive, convulsing blob. Their moods and emotions as indistinguishable to each other as grains of sand. 

 

He could not find the one following him. There were too many.

 

His processor began to ache. 

 

It could have been paranoia, it could have been. The rational part of him pushed him to test that theory. There could be any number of explanations for it; a watchful denizen, a local officer on patrol, there was no reason to suspect hostility. The bot below may not be truly following him. A coincidence. Two mecha who simply happen to be heading in the same direction at the same time and the oddness of his frame caught the other bot’s attention enough for the attention to linger.

 

Or it might not be. 

 

Soundwave dipped his wings right and purposefully took a wrong turn, never slowing or increasing his speed. He flew in a wide loop, doubling back, taking a route that would delay his return for as long as possible. Somewhere between where he started and re-emerging with the correct route the feeling faded from his sensors. 

 

He was a couple of kliks from the apartment at the point but again delayed. The last thing he wanted to do was lead the mech, if there was one, to his symbionts. At the same time, a primitive subroutine urged him to check on their physical status. He felt them, strongly from this distance. They were fine.  _ Rambunctious. Laughter.  _ Clearly in no obvious distress and yet... 

 

After another klik of wary deliberation, Soundwave judged it to be wiser to be with his symbionts than not and closed the distance between there and the apartment.  

 

* * *

__   
_   
_ Reaching the last step of a dimly lit stairwell, the low buzz of the light overhead loud in the corridor, the bustling, hyperactivity of his symbionts hit before the noise did. He stilled for a beat at the top of the stairwell to process this, digits wrapped around the rail guard for stability. The walls, of course, were ridiculously thin, but on occasion just how poorly the walls muffled noise took him by surprise. If it were possible for the insulation to get  __ worse , he would imagine that was the case. 

  
  
Every single cycle,  _ something _ in this place reached the end of its lifespan.

  
  
Directly across the hall from his domicile, their neighbor, a wary, faded old femme peered out from her own door frame. A scowl set to her lips, it appeared that she had been watching his door for some time. Unhappily, suspiciously. Her pede tapped out a soft but annoying rhythm on the deprecated tiles. He could hear them chipping further.

  
  
She stopped the motion as he approached, optics trailing after his movements as he reached the door. She flashed a quick glower his way than vanished into her domicile with a soft hiss and click. 

 

He didn’t know her designation. She had been here when he moved in and he supposed she would be here when he left. He didn’t care one way or another, his only pressing thought on the matter was whether or not she had sent a complaint to the landlord. 

  
  
Soundwave slid his servos across the security panel. As the door whooshed open the volume within increased ten-fold. Practically vibrating along his plating. Four symbionts should not be capable of generating so much noise, and yet here they were.

  
Stunned for a moment, the sensor panels on either side of his helm gave a lurch as he took in the sight of every piece of furniture within the space tipped on its side. For a spark stopping moment, it appeared as if the domicile has been ransacked. The baying sounds of laughter gave little credence to the notion but the sight jolted his spark.

 

The twins, he knew immediately they were responsible, had dragged the table to the center of the room to construct a makeshift fortress. Using the chairs as stakes to pin the mesh sheet they had stolen from the berth, to create a tent. 

  
Across the bond, Rumble and Frenzy’s amusement- their bubbling, rolling laughter- and utter glee nearly drowned out the high-frequency frustration Laserbeak hurtled their way. Ravage was nowhere to be seen, though her annoyance was felt fiercely through the bond.

 

Small pedes in motion sent a stampede through the domicile, echoing out one hall and back into the main room and then back to the bedroom. A giggle turned scream met the thin wall of the front door only just in time, though the panel that had slid shut, it was quite useless in keeping the noise contained. The mirth across the bond was entirely, utterly unapologetic. No regrets.

  
  
Soundwave’s optics slid closed briefly, a deep ex-vent rattling his taxed systems. Laserbeak gave the mental impression of sharp, ruffled feathers. All sharp edges. A sharp ache was beginning to form in his helm.

  
  
Optics slid back open just as the twin’s stampede made it back into the room. The tilt of his helm was enough to bring them to a stumbling stop, realizing their time was finally up. They seemed to have not noticed him over their... fun. Frenzy stumbled into Rumble and the crack of their plates together sent one last ringing echo into the apartment.  Frenzy cursed, rubbing his forehead.

  
  
“Uh, Hey boss?” Rumble questioned, a nervous smile stretching across his lips.

 

Soundwave silently expressed his disbelief by sweeping his gaze over the state of the domicile, turning his helm slowly with the motion for emphasis. For clarification, they needn’t but tug a little at the bond. 

 

Small optics followed the turn of his helm, a nervous giggle bubbling up in both of the twin’s throats as they rubbed the backs of their helms. “Sorry boss, we were just playin'. Got home early, you know?” Frenzy offered. Rumble swallowed.

_   
_ Laserbeak shrieked, choosing that moment to dive over their helms and haphazardly land at Soundwave’s pedes. She shot a relieved gaze up at him, beating her wings once as it to shake off dust in the twin’s direction. Tangled over her back and across her wings was what looked to have once been the casing of a large plumbing cable and something that looked suspiciously like insulation. The first words out of her vocalizer were- “Rumble and Frenzy were being mean to me! They won’t play  _ fair! _ ”

 

“Were  _ NOT!! _ ” Rumble almost immediately shrieked at her, scowling. “You just won’t follow our rules!” Frenzy nodded quickly, a pulse of indignation in their fields.

 

Laserbeak tore a piece of casing free from her wings and threw it at Rumble. The thin strip of metal floated innocently to the ground between them instead of the intended effect. “They  _ were too! _ He tried to  _ ground _ me.” She plucked at another strip of metal to present as her evidence. 

 

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Frenzy whined, stomping up to them and trying to jump and grab it. As if Laserbeak wasn't, literally, covered in evidence. “I swear we were _ just playing, _ ” he pleaded, and Rumble nodded furiously. Their guilt, however, could not be hidden from their fields.

 

Soundwave considered them, the state of the apartment and what they had done. Slowly, he pulled the words from his vocalizer. “Where is Ravage?”

 

That seemed to have hit the mark. Both of them froze on the spot, optics wide and all too telling. “Uh...” they both said in unison. Her absence suddenly blaring. “She’s nowhere?” Frenzy tried, knowing full well it wouldn’t work. “Boss doesn’t need to concern himself with her, she's a loner, y’know?” Rumble added.

__   
__   
Ridiculous. 

  
  
Soundwave deliberately turned his helm away from the little mech and swept across the main room, careful not to step on the loose data-pad and scattered cube- a fragile piece of glassware that really should have been in storage- he followed the beating of the feline’s spark out of the main room. 

  
  
Before he had even crossed the threshold he found evidence where she had been. Blue, feline-shaped prints led from the wash rack to the desk, devoid of all it’s usual contents, contents that were now scattered across the floor, and underneath the berth. 

  
  
He kneeled, ignoring the creak in his joints and peered underneath. 

  
  
Ravage’s red, fierce optics met his from under the mask of a sloppily applied coat of white paint. A splattering of blue crisscrossed her legs. She scowled the mesh of her muzzle curling over her sharp denta. “ _ Never _ come back late again.”

  
  
“Ooh, now you’re in for it!” Laserbeak crowed.

  
  
Soundwave silently coaxed Ravage from underneath the berth. With great reluctance and a wounded pride she refused to admit to, Ravage crawled into his arms. Her tail thrashed and she took the moment, now having the advantage of height above everyone else, to glare down at the twins.  _ ‘This happened because you were LATE.’ _

  
  
Rumble, unable to meet her gaze and his, stared down at his pedes. Frenzy stood next to him in solidarity. If one of them fell, they  _ both _ fell. 

  
  
“Rumble, Frenzy,” his words crackled at the edges. He stroked the feline behind her helm. She would not forgive him, she insisted across their bond. She would not forgive anyone, especially the twins for a very long time. She would  _ not _ . “Restore our domicile to its former state.”

  
  
Rumble groan and Frenzy knocked his twin in the side with his elbow to shush him up. “Yeah, that’s fair...” the little mech mumbled quietly. 

  
  
Soundwave nodded in approval.

  
  
“I’m not helping you,” Laserbreak hurriedly told him. Rumble scowled.

  
  
“Why the frag not, you were playing the game too!”

  
  
“No, I wasn’t! You were being so mean to me I couldn’t play at all!” __   
  


Frenzy jumped to his twin's defense and a petty nonsensical argument broke out between the three of them. Unwilling to let this drag out any longer, and fearing the wrath of the landlord if the noise did not die down soon, Soundwave interrupted before the argument could escalate. “No.”

 

All three fell silent, gazing up at him. “Laserbeak will assist me in washing Ravage.”

 

Ravage jolted. “What? No!” But his mind already made up. They needed to get that paint off of her and she did not have the...  _ dexterity,  _ to do it herself. It was her pride that fed into her resistance. He hoped, that with only himself and Laserbeak present, it might soften the blow. 

 

After much unnecessary fussing, he managed to get her into the tub. Solvent was not designed with the chemical composition to strip paint from a bot but it did have properties that  _ softened  _ unsealed paint, provided it had not aged. 

 

While he worked to carefully chip the unnatural colors off her sleek black frame, Laserbeak was silently redirected to begin work on the rest of the room the moment the twins left. 

 

It took a better part of a joor and a half to return the apartment to its former state. Likely the most thorough cleaning the space had seen in well over a deca-vorn. The landlord would certainly have nothing to complain about by the time they were through. The last of the offending paint was removed from Ravage’s coat in half that time. She refused to speak to him but her gratitude pulsed warmly through their bond, in light of her silent insistence that she hadn’t forgiven him yet for arriving late. 

 

Normally, Soundwave would have no qualms allowing his symbionts to fall into recharge wherever they wanted, but this cycle, as one by one they slipped into unconscious the silence grew oppressive. An itch, a tug. With nothing more to distract him the events of the orn fed back to him in a loop. 

 

The slow ex-vent and in-vent, and the even quieter hum of their fans the only addition to the ambiance. A striking contrast to what he came back to not a few joors prior. The silence deafened.

 

Careful not to wake them, he gathered them up in his arms. He wanted them close. Before he knew what he was doing, he found it utterly unacceptable to have them where he could not see them. One by one he settled them around the berth. Ravage underneath it, Rumble and Frenzy in the tiny free space at the end of it settled there with the same mesh sheet they had stolen prior. Laserbeak was gently settled on the desk. She liked heights and he was sure she would appreciate having the space to quickly take off. 

 

For a moment, he paused there, unknowing in what he wanted but watched them all the same. It was a deceptive peace. Affection a warm hum in his spark, a need for their presence. 

 

The quiet buzz of the building adding to the low ambiance. A floor below a bot moved a large object. The pipes groaned for a moment as another made use of the building’s limited reservoir of warm solvent.     
  


It was amazing how much could fill the quiet, yet how deafening it seemed to remain. Doubt liked to creep in at times like this, an unsure throb. They depended on him. Capable on their own- but they had trusted themselves to him. They were  _ here _ , for him. He couldn’t be more honored.

  
  
Soundwave closed his optics briefly, slowly lowering himself in the seat in front of the desk. Quiet as he ever was, though nothing could wake them at this stage. A deep wariness settled into his circuits. They deserved better than this. Yet they stayed. He would always have them. And Soundwave was never going to let them go. 

  
  
The metal sheet of the mask gave a hard click as it was placed on the desk, cold under the tips of his digits. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments I cannot express enough how much feedback means to me! I am overjoyed there are people out there who like this little thing. Another big thank you to my beta and bestie who helped me a bunch with this chapter. 
> 
> On that note, the chapter after this got slightly delayed when I realized I was missing some establishing bits. The good news is, that means you get more fluff, the bad news is you might notice a slight change in the way things are written between this chapter and the next. And that is because this chapter was written AFTER the next chapter. 
> 
> For those of you patiently waiting for the plot, it's just around the corner. pls prepare your steak knives, or sporks if you're not into meat


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A perfectly mundane walk down a perfectly mundane dark alley, and the glistening sheen of a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is at this point, that we start to earn our Graphic Depictions of Violence tag. As well as some gritty, perhaps unsettling implications. There is some mention of kidnapping in this chapter, it is fleeting but it is there. I think that's it in terms of warnings, let me know if I need to provide a warning for anything more specific! 
> 
> -

The streets were quiet. The solar-cycle would end in just a few breems and for the moment the city vented in relief, a moment of reprieve before the nocturnally inclined bots left the warmth of their domiciles to experience lunar life. Down the block, the street lamps flickered on, one by one, a low static hum in the air as Cybertron shifted routines. Electric but different, somehow. Soundwave waited until the last lamp was properly lit before he began his long journey home.

 

A mild fog settled over the city as he reached the alley. As expected, his symbionts were not waiting for him here this time, save the exception of Laserbeak who rested soundly within the plating of his chest. After taking a short sweep of the area Soundwave moved on. He knew this shortcut by spark and at this time of the cycle preferred it over flying through brightly lit habitual towers and the general bustle of the cityscape. Neon lights, music, and reflective steel columns shining with a dozen smokey colors which the fog now obscured, giving one the illusion they were no longer in the city proper.

 

Nine breems from home and in the juncture behind two worn suites, the monotonous ambiance of the city was interrupted by a noise that did not belong. It took Soundwave a moment to realize he did not hear the noise through his audials but rather felt it resound within his helm. Usually, Soundwave kept his reach either within an arm’s length of his frame or with considerable concentration, kept it wide but dampened. In either circumstance, on the very rare occasion, a powerful emotion would pierce through the shields he put in place. This was one such instance.

 

The cry captured his attention immediately. It was a fearful cry, mournful, and hopeless.  _ Longing. A plea.  _ And very close.

 

Soundwave’s helm swiveled, the sensor arrays on either side alert as he attempted to pinpoint it. It was difficult at first and he quickly came to the conclusion the source must be quite small. Symbiont sized or smaller, a sparkling possibly and either scenario was alarming. Then he felt it. Off to the right, down another narrow alleyway between crumbling storage units. He did a quick calculation and judged his frame to be slender enough to shimmy through. Soundwave did so without hesitation.

 

On the other side, a chain link fence blocked his progress. A courtyard of what seemed to be a large warehouse or a run-down factory lay beyond it. Behind a web of cracked glass panels, a single light flickered.

 

He stalked around the perimeter, shoulders hunched, certain in the most frustrating way that the distressed symbiont lay near or within the building. There wasn't enough room to transform into his alt-mode and fly over the fence and Soundwave did not feel himself physically adept enough to scale it without injury. He considered sending Laserbeak over but dismissed the idea, unwilling to send her off in a potentially dangerous situation. Unease crawled through his circuits. He kept looking.

 

He found a way in where the fence met the wall of the structure surrounding the yard, where the chain was weakly melded to the wall by a cheap frame. Digits hooked through the mesh and pulled. Suddenly mindful of the groan the metal made Soundwave paused, waiting. He felt the attention of a bot nearby, but they were calm and well concealed. Now feeling pressed for time, he peeled the mesh the rest of the way and carefully slid under the gap. A sharp wire caught on the sensitive surface of his wing. He flinched as he pulled free. He felt a drop of warmth trickle down the panel of the wing but soon forgot about the minor injury. Through the symbiotic-link Laserbeak felt the prick, she stirred in her compartment in his chassis, sending worried pings to his hub but otherwise remained still.

 

The fearful pull of emotion faded in the few kliks it took him to crawl under the fence, desperation no less intense but the strength of it felt muffled. Smothered, the sensation much like a cube submerged in a thick liquid. The alarm that arose from this thought was his own. Was someone attempting to kill them? Soundwave moved quickly.

 

There was a bot inside. They felt pleased with themselves.

 

Disgusted and all the more distressed Soundwave reeled his senses back in. The mech- no mecha, there was more than one- inside felt a revolting passion for their actions. They were confident, egocentric, greedy. A selfish desire for material gain-  _ fear, fear, fear... anger. _ A small body _ coward, another begged. They wanted out. _

 

The platting down his back shook, Soundwave took an unsteady step backward, pressing his forearm against a nearby wall to steady himself.

 

Almost immediately a cold metallic rod, the barrel of an object that should not have been directly behind him halted any further movement. Cold metal pressed to the column of his back. “Don't move. Don't say a word.” Deceptively low the melodic voice crawled from the quiet. “When they told me yer description I didn’t get it at first, but somethin’ felt off about you. It hit all the right marks and then... you led me here. You working for old' mech Scorponok aren't ya.”

 

Soundwave kept himself perfectly still. Jazz. The server from the Riggsby establishment.  For once his paranoia had been justified. Soundwave didn't know whether to feel satisfied or disheartened by this fact. But he was not the culprit here, whatever the bot's convictions were, they were false. He ex-vented, slowly. Testing the word on his glossa as the mesh of his lip peeled painfully. “No.”

 

“No?” Jazz sneered, incredulous. “Really is that all you got? C'mon mech you gotta try harder than that. Six sparklings have gone missing this past deca-cycle. You're going to take me to them. This whole operation is comin’ down.”

 

Sparkling? Is that what he- Soundwave turned his helm, sensory panels adjusting to focus on the warehouse. He could not extend his senses so far again, not so soon, but he could feel them even still, vaguely. Like the masses of the city, an ambient body.

 

Jazz saw the movement, light from the nearby street lamps glistening off the surface of his visor. “They're in there huh,” With the gun still pressed to his back Jazz guided him forward. “Get me in.”

 

Soundwave considered this. He took one step forward, then another, moving on autopilot towards the warehouse. Moving in step behind him, they rounded the corner of the building. Jazz's convictions were strong, his processor set in the truth of here and now. He was angry. It was difficult to reason with an angry mech, Soundwave knew this well. He also knew he could not take one step inside that warehouse. The mecha inside would open fire the moment they saw him. It would be an effective method to prove his innocence but Soundwave had no desire to feel the burn of laser rifle again.

 

But more importantly, it would endanger Laserbeak.

 

The frame of a side door protruded from the rusted wall of the warehouse. Above it a single caged bulb flickered, buzzing with the effort it took to remain lit. Spark beating fast, he knew he was running out of time. His line of sight darted back to Jazz in his periphery. The black of his helm cast a shadow over most of his expression, his mouth pressed into a thin line.  _ Concentration. Deep thought. Anticipation. _ The light above crackled again. Soundwave counted the time that elapsed between each flicker.

 

Another step.

 

The light went out for a fraction of a nano-second. Soundwave ducked, spinning on the apex of his heel. The back of his arm met Jazz's servo, the impact justled his grip on the gun. It fell and both mechs dove after it. For the first time, Soundwave was able to see what kind of gun it was. It was small and easily concealed; the signature weapon of an agent.

 

The rivv of the other bot's engine met him. Jazz did not stop moving, his digits wrapped around the handle the same time Soundwave's did. Jazz brought his knee guard up to deliver a blow to his torso. Soundwave returned the favor by jamming his knee into the other mech's pelvis. The over mech groaned but was surprisingly resistant to the strike.

 

It was a moment of weakness Soundwave did not let pass by. He brought up both legs and shoved. They parted. Jazz rolled over onto his servos and knees, jumping to his pedes at the same time Soundwave grabbed the gun and took two staggering steps backward until the tips of his wings met the far wall. He felt the laceration from the fence grow, cool and wet fluid dripping down the column of his back.

 

Jazz sucked in a vent, slowly raising his servos to the level of his helm. His vision trained on his stolen gun. “Easy, easy... don't do this. It doesn't gotta be this way- have a spark mech, I just want to get those sparklings home,”

 

Soundwave tightened his grip on the gun, holding it now with both servos. He had absolutely no qualms with Jazz’s intentions, but he was not about to let himself be dragged into a shoot-out. Now that the position of power had shifted, would Jazz listen? “I am not involved,”  

 

Jazz's lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah,” He said neutrally. “Don't really look that way from my angle.”

 

“I am not involved,” The words were said with more force this time, Soundwave took another unsteady step backward.

 

“Alright, alright, you're not.” Jazz agreed, he kept his servos raised, pacifying.  _ Reassuring _ . The silver bot put on all the pretense of agreeing with him, of course without honestly. He was cop with the barrel of his own gun leveled to his spark chamber.  

 

Jazz took a slow, careful step, inching closer with all the grace of a dancer. “Watcha doin' in a place like this? Ya gotta admit it doesn't look good.”

 

“No,” Soundwave agreed. The silver bot's suspicions were justified, but it was the truth. He would never agree to the operation going down here. He was not involved in this. “I took a shortcut home,” Why he took a wrong turn Soundwave would not admit to. He received enough discrimination on an ornly basis he did not need to tack on another. It would not be advantageous, especially to admit such to an officer.

 

Jazz's expression twisted. Under a carefully controlled field, he felt the bot's disbelief. It seemed like a flimsy explanation. Convenient and ridiculous. Wrong place at the wrong time, every criminal said. Paradoxically, it gave the agent pause. His gaze turned probing, searching. He still didn't believe him, as naturally it would be to trust the mech holding you at gunpoint, but there was doubt now. He was open to the possibility. “You should give me the gun mech. We can talk this out, but I gotta have that back.”

 

Soundwave nodded slowly. He had no qualms with this, but the gun... releasing what little control he had over the situation was not a pleasing thought. It had been a long time since he held a weapon in the palm of his servos. He could not deny he missed the weight of it. The curve of the metal and the hum of energy underneath. It was familiar. It gave him strength. A power he had sorely missed. Soundwave's old, old battleware fought against the idea of turning the gun over to a cop. However...

 

He lowered the weapon. “You will not fire...”

 

Jazz took another slow step closer. He was just three strides away now; dangerous, cautious. “I won't. We're even yeah? No harm done.”

 

Soundwave held still,  _ listening _ , but Jazz was a liar.

 

His grip on the gun tightened. Soundwave took another step back. He saw the mech's jaw tighten, cables coiled.

 

A blaring noise rocketed down the alley. 

 

From within the warehouse, someone sounded the alarm. Both cop and suspect faltered. A lapse in concentration and a rookie mistake. Before he had the chance to look back, a silver frame collided into him. The mech's wider servos wrapped around his wrists, attempting to untangle his dexters from the handle of the gun. Pain blossomed down his back, Soundwave's wings screeched, running light groves into the wall behind. The two mechs tumbled over each other. Jazz's digits slipped over the trigger, Soundwave pulled.

 

A shot fired. Shearing heat, a streak of light in the narrow space between the agent’s visor and Soundwave’s mask. Deafened, he did not hear the impact. Time seemed to slow, a spray of debris, particles of concrete bombarded across the side of his helm, a thousand tiny needles he felt more than heard. In the light of the spray, and close enough to see the tainted sheet of glass, Soundwave saw the agent’s optics widen.  

 

Time snapped back into place.

 

The door on the side of the warehouse swung open. Soundwave released his hold, shoving himself free of the mech. Jazz cocked the gun to his chassis just as another shot rang out. Heat soared over the silver mech's helm, a curse uttered through silent lips and they both dove away from each other.

 

Soundwave dove behind the nearest shelter, a sharp whine of his heel as he made the sharp turn. A barrage of laser fire grazed over the crate, molten hot and a wailing rapid drone. Jazz was not in his direct line of sight but he felt the flutter of the mech’s spark not far away. A thrill of excitement coursed through the agent’s lines with the beat of a heavy drum, coalescing with dread and resigned frustration.  _ Alert. Focused. _ Digits clutched around the gun so tightly the metal of the handle began to buckle _. _

 

Four, five, eight, moving under the direction of the last. The hail of laser fire slowed to a crawl. Heavy pede-fall, stalking forward from his left. Two slowly approached the agent from his right, across their bond Laserbeak cried out to him in alarm. She felt vaguely, through his sensors what he did, her terror sparked an electric fire through his lines. There was no time for comfort, no time for reassurance. The mech rounded the corner of the crate with a charged pistol. 

 

There was nothing for it, either he dislodge the weapon from the mech’s servo or he would get shot in the spark.

 

A downward blow knocked the gun out of the mech’s servo. The mech’s engine revved with his fury. Soundwave narrowly dodged the intended punch. Sharp metal grazed the surface underneath his arm. The metal sang, taking with it a hot line of fluid. He turned on the apex of his heel, jamming his arm down on the mech’s now exposed back. Putting distance between himself and these much larger bots was quickly becoming his priority and as the mech stumbled forward Soundwave delivered a second blow to the mech’s helm for good measure. 

 

The second mech rounded on him than and he spun on his heel just in time, raising both arms to block the intended blow to his chest. Just as large and heavy as the first, the force of his weight threw Soundwave back a step. His arms shook, a low rattle with the effect it took to keep from being forced back another. 

 

As his opponent bore his weight down something changed then, the faceplate of the mech twisted from focused rage to something uncomfortably and keenly familiar:  _ recognition _ . Familiarity struck him at the same moment. He knew him. Soundwave’s spark dropped.  _ He knew him. _

 

The designation was on the tip of his glossa- the other mech’s mouth parted but he would not give him the chance to  _ utter a word _ . Taking advantage of the mech’s shock, he shoved his weight forward, momentarily dislodging them from their standoff. The other mech recentred himself, prepared to re-engaged but the intentions behind his action had shifted. Neither of them had the chance. 

 

Rekindled by an earlier act Soundwave had missed, focused on his own opponent, laser fire resumed. A hail storm of fizzing, crackling energy. In the head of the moment, it quickly became apparent to him that he could not handle the situation alone. The thugs from within the warehouse were swarming, his options were dwindling. No matter where he stood he was damned.

 

He did something vorns ago he thought he would never do. He dove to the agent’s side. 

 

Shots rang out the astro-second his pedes hit the concrete. Heat grazed the polish of his back, but he slipped behind the column a spark beat later.

 

The agent threw the barrel of his weapon sharply in his direction, angled directly at his helm. The movement entirely on reflex. And on reflex too, Soundwave’s servo shot up to catch the barrel, shoving it upward so his processor was not in the direct line of fire. Jazz uttered a curse, spark fluctuating between alarm, recognition and something he could not identify. Jazz’s intentions too had shifted.

 

“Involved or not mech,  _ don’t do that _ .” The agent hissed. Another silent curse- one he felt more within the agent’s field than audibly and the agent pulled him behind as another shot rang out. Soundwave took it to mean Jazz believed him now. 

 

“Give it up! We got you where we want ya, copper,” A voice boomed. Gravel tumbled within the speaker's throat, and through the tension and the way Jazz held himself, Soundwave assumed, currently, that the speaker must be Scorponok. A behemoth of a mech, for the size of his speak and aggression he bore, was enough for a city block. Soundwave felt his approach through the base of his pede, a subtle tremor in the ground. His intentions were abhorrent.

 

“Come on out,” Scorponok slurred. “And we’ll be nice enough to give ya time to call yer bonded before we clip ya. Give ‘em a chance to say goodbye before we crush yer empty shell.” The massive mech drew near.  

 

Jazz’s field rippled with tension, less so intimated than he was frustrated. The agent directed him back a step and Soundwave was just starting to feel somewhat insulted by this act- Protection. He didn’t need protection. From a cop no less, who was very much responsible for this entire predicament, when, with a glance over his shoulder he felt a break. A blind spot in their number. Jazz was not yet watching him, anticipating the mech who was sure to turn the corner at any moment. His shadow crawled across the pavement. 

 

Soundwave reached for the agent’s upper arm. He disliked tactile contact, it was little more than the brush of the digits, hardly within a bandwidth of the other mech’s armor but headless the act had its intended effect. Jazz whipped around but politely kept the barrel of his gun lowered this time. Without words, Soundwave directed his line of sight. 

 

Jazz followed the movement of his helm, then nodded. 

 

The distance between them and the escape route was not great, but with every step they took, he felt the optics searching for him more intensely. They made it within a stride of freedom. Soundwave moved back in time, but as he had no time to process an effective manner to warn him, Jazz did not. 

 

The closed fist landed with a resounding crack. The mech responsible, his former comrade in arms, not been aiming for Jazz. This much was clear as his expression twisted into a snarl, readjusting his stance to aim at Soundwave again.

 

Jazz uttered a hissed through his lips, spitting loss energon between his denta. Metal screeched, Jazz jammed his elbow into the other’s torso, using his momentum to throw the full force of his weight into the vulnerable cables underneath the chest plate. The mech fell back into a less than sturdy crate, the metal collapsed under his weight. Debris prevented him from getting back up quickly.

 

Jazz spun on his heel. He reached for Soundwave’s arm- though he needn’t pull, as Soundwave had the same directive in mind and down the alley they ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you yell to everyone who left a comment or kudos!! if I didn't leave a reply it is because I was overwhelmed but I appreciate every word, love ya'll \o/


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential Warnings: a brief, paragraph-long description of injury, some sensory issues on Soundwave's behalf and that's about it

They took shelter underneath the awning of a residential tower. Several blocks away, yet not far enough. Jazz leaned against the wall to rest, allowing his frame the chance to cool. They both waited in silence under the ambient buzz of the city.

 

 

Now that the danger had passed, ever temporarily, Soundwave would have placed more distance between them if he wasn't so exhausted. He stood in a similar position on the opposing wall. Strategically keeping his injured wing and back out of the mech’s line of sight. Though he needn’t bother. As he watched the mech, he saw the scorch marks of laser fire, energon leaked from a joint connecting the bot’s doorwing to his back. A slow blue trickle.

 

Sensing his look, Jazz raised his helm to met his gaze. His smooth but battered lips quirked. “Don’t look so bad yourself mech,” 

Soundwave refused to reward the agent with any sort of response. Undeterred, and perhaps even encouraged by all that blatant staring going on, Jazz continued. “I think I believe ya, you weren’t apart of that ring. Wouldn’t have time to let ‘em know I was comin’ either. Ya need skill to fake that kind of reaction and mecha like that? They don’t have the software for it.”

 

Soundwave remained silent. The mech could take what he will from his lack of reply.

 

Jazz shrugged. “What I still don’t get is why you were out there. Didn’t buy your shortcut story than and I don’t buy it now. Why would a mech like you-” at this Jazz gestured to the lithe design of his frame. “-risk goin’ down the back streets? Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t sayin’ you’re asking for that kind of attention. You just don’t strike me as the kind of mech who’d take that chance.”

 

He was too exhausted to deal with this dark line of thought. Soundwave decided it was time to turn the tables. “You have been following me.” It was not an accusation or a question, it was a conclusion. Who was the agent to assume his psyche otherwise? Soundwave thought back to the first time he had seen the mech. The suspension under an amiable field, the tension, the unnerving intensity of Jazz’s interest. And now his sudden appearance at Soundwave’s back with a gun, on the way home on a detour neither of them had any business going down. It was the most logical conclusion he could come to. Evidently, Jazz must have been following this situation for some time.

 

Soundwave felt miffed with himself for not noticing the fact he was being tailed by a cop. He was losing his touch.

 

Jazz was silent for a moment, field neutral, but there was an edge to it. Then he smiled, leaning back on the ball of his heel. “Yeah, I was. Still can’t believe you’re workin’ at a Library. I thought to myself _‘Well jee if that ain’t the most iconic cover story I ever saw.’_ Would have thought it was something out of a holo-novel, to be honest. You should’ve seen my boss when I told ‘em.”

 

If the silver and black bot was attempting to elicit an emotional response from him it wasn’t working. Finding no point to their conversation, Soundwave pushed away from the wall with the intention to start the long trek home. If the agent saw to arrest him for suspicion of anything else this orn, he made no move to do so.

 

As it happened, Soundwave had not noticed the extent of his own injuries. As his left pede made contact with the ground, something slid out of place, a crackling static of a disconnected wire and the leg buckled. Electric hot pain shot up the cables and pistons of his leg, to his knee, and all the way up to his hip. Patches of black blotted out his vision. Soundwave found himself on the ground, one knee bent oddly. Jazz crouched next to him. Hesitant to touch but arm none-the-less hovering behind his back as if to catch him should he fall. The silver and black bot was speaking, saying something, but Laserbeak held Soundwave’s attention.

 

She requested repeatedly to deploy, so she could fly for help, find Ravage and lead her host to safety. A request Soundwave refused, solely because of the agent’s presence. The injury was minor, moreover, Soundwave had felt with worse in the past.

 

“We’re gonna hav’ta get that looked at,” Jazz was saying, he was close enough for their fields to intermingle. Soundwave felt the purposeful confidence he emitted, assurance in a purely professional way, the little messages you would typically expect from a cop with an injured civilian under his care. Despite himself, Soundwave felt patronized.

 

Raising slowly, he pulled Soundwave’s arms over his shoulder, looping his own arm around the small of the slender mech’s back. Careful to avoid the smaller set of wings there. It was a surprising act of consideration, but Soundwave supposed his wings were close enough to doorwings to elicit sympathy. He complied with the act and followed the silver bot’s step, though his circuits prickled with discomfort.

 

As they neared the end of the alley, the ambient mass of processors grew to the point where they became difficult to bear. Soundwave felt his processor grow detached from it, noting the swarm as a distant entity. He knew this was a lie and forced his range to expand one more time.

 

It was no use, individuals were simply too fuzzy to discern.

 

Soundwave was brought back to reality by a sudden tension in the agent’s frame. Field still, quiet, subdued. Soundwave turned his helm towards the mech, a slight tilt- he did not see lines but felt them, felt the caution and alarm, a calculated and sharp processor racing, searching for an alternative. His attention swerved in the direction of the silver mech’s focus. He found not another mech but aggression, awareness- a false sense of justice and malicious intent. Searching, searching. There were too many in this direction.

 

While Jazz lay still in indecision, waiting, Soundwave felt for a place in the mass where the power of emotion and thought felt weakest. Without words or access to a private comm, he nudged the agent in the right direction with his field. “You seem pretty sure ‘bout this,” Jazz changed course, following his lead, but granted not without a fresh wave of suspicion.

 

After two blocks the agent spoke again. “We ain’t headin’ towards your place are we.”

 

Soundwave bristled. Through his field flared disbelief and pure indignation. Of course, they weren’t! What kind of mech would led a cop to his dingy little domicile where his symbionts lay safely tucked away? Fragging pit. It took a moment for him to realize the agent was jesting when this fact finally settled his anger deflated. “...your humor is pitiful.”

 

Jazz laughed. His visor shone with mirth, and from the close proximity, his bio lights seemed to glow with it. “Ouch! Shot me right through the spark. I take it this means won’t be a second date?” The mech’s amusement, unfortunately, seemed to have a long legacy period. The smug grin would not leave the agent’s face for several breems. Soundwave resolved to ignore him.

 

Another block and Jazz took the lead. He seemed to recognize the area and made a bee-line down the street to what amounted to a shanty speedway stop. He went in through the back door, flashed his ID at the first employee he saw and they were lead down a network of hallways to an unclaimed hab-suite.

 

It was a simple room, complete with an in-house wash-rack, storage units and two separate berths with a small table in between. The color theme of the room seemed to be faded orange... alternatively the color could be called cream. It was difficult to discern what the intended shade had been. The paint peeled at the corners of the wall where pede traffic was evidently heaviest.

 

Once the door had been locked securely, Soundwave pushed the agent away. Not with any considerable force but enough to make his wishes clear. Jazz pulled back, raising both servos in a pacifying motion.

 

Soundwave claimed the berth under the viewport. He allowed his frame to sage into the deceptively bumpy surface with a heavy vent.

 

The agent spent another moment inspecting the room and double checking the lock before he settled down into the berth across from his. The agent’s injuries, at a glance, looked superficial, but Soundwave did not miss the flinch, or the sharp prickle of pain now flourishing in several places across his torso. He made note of the one in the mech’s arm, and another at the base of a doorwing.

 

Jazz crossed one leg over the other. “I think we got off on the wrong pede. How ‘about we start over. Name’s Jazz, I’ma agent of the Polyhexian Department of Investigation, I get on the aft of bad mecha ‘round town. Sup.”

 

Soundwave stared into the depths of the ceiling. What was the point of this charade? “Soundwave,” he said. The agent, of course, knew this, and likewise, he could not grasp why the other mech now nudged him to continue. “Archive clerk.”

 

“So, you, an archivist working at the largest library in Polyhex decided to go to a bar one cycle. Doesn’t seem like your kind of shindig, no offense mech.”

 

Soundwave could agree that no it wasn’t. This kind of small talk made him uncomfortable. “I received a coupon.”

 

Jazz’s visor flickered in a blink. “Rough times?”  

 

He didn’t want to talk about finances with a mech he just met, let alone a cop. He had no desire to speak at all. Finally, Jazz seemed to realize this and continued. “Yeah, that was kind of personal wasn’t it.” He thought for a klik.

 

“So, yer working at the archives but it ain’t giving you a lot to work with. Someone gives ya a coupon to Riggby’s and you go, ‘cause you’re not gonna waste a chance to save credits.” Jazz nodded to himself, satisfied with this explanation. “I can get behind that. But I still can’t accept the reason you gave for goin’ down that alley. I’ve tailed ya enough to know you don’t deviate from your routine much. So why did ya?”

 

His thoughts on this had not changed significantly. Exposing himself as an outlier, opening himself up to blackmail and greed was not something Soundwave wanted to do, but he suspected the more frustrated the agent got the more likely he was to look into Soundwave’s history. To throw the agent off, he reluctantly decided to share a mega-bit of truth.  

 

Considering his words carefully, Soundwave allowed the simple statement to part from his voicebox. “I had heard a cybercat in the alley.”

 

“A cybercat,” Jazz repeated. “You went down a dark alley and risked your own safety for a cybercat.”

 

Excellent. It seemed Jazz had not lost the ability to hear. “Do you not risk your spark for the helpless.”

 

“Yeah, but a cybercat ain't a wounded bot.”

 

Soundwave considered the difference arbitrary. Ravage, though far superior to a typical cyber-cat was nonetheless a mechanimal. The definition of cruelty did not change when it was applied to a creation of lesser sapience. Regardless of his own thoughts on the matter, the ruse seemed to satisfy Jazz enough. Surprise made way for understanding.  

 

Jazz rubbed the back of his neck. “I getcha. Don’t agree with ya but I’ll accept that.”

 

“Alright mech. I’ll leave ya be.”

 

Goals achieved, Soundwave returned his focus to the ceiling. He offlined his optics.

 

Peace did not last long. The shifting of gears kept him up to date on the agent’s movements. He was working with a med-kit now.

 

A few breems passed and a bot approached the door from the hallway. A moment of tension followed, Soundwave onlined his optics and sat upright, watching the door and Jazz with caution as the mech checked who it was. The door was wedged open a fraction. Two medical grade energon cubes were transferred into the agent’s waiting servos. The moment passed as the door locked again.

 

Jazz passed one cube off to him. The agent started to sip at his own for the moment, attention subtly focused on the way Soundwave’s digits plucked the cube, and then to his back as Soundwave turned to pointedly face the window. It was a message without words, one that requested a level of respect few tended to give. He did not want the agent to see the state of his face while he refueled. Thankfully the mech seemed to get the message. He still did not drink until the agent’s focus wavered and seemed to shift to repairing his own injuries.

 

Soundwave drank quickly, delicate cables taught as he held the medical mask just far enough to bring the corner to his lips. The open-air stung the tender mesh at the corner of his mouth. He siphoned off a portion to Laserbeak on reflex. She stirred, wary but curious of their environment. Gratitude fluttered across their symbioenic link.

 

With the mask once again securely in place, Soundwave turned his attention to fixing his leg.

 

He brought his knee up to his chest. On closer inspection not only had the ball joint dislocated there was also a hairline fracture running up the course of the plating to the knee. He ran a digit along the fissure. Feeling the jagged edge he determined something must have struck him during the chase. The course of events drew abruptly fuzzy after he fled with the agent. He would have felt it at any point during the fight and would not have been able to evade capture. With that much activity, the fissure would have been much worse.

 

Setting the leg himself, however, would be... difficult. He was not incompetent, he had done so before many times. However, it would always be a temporary solution until he could reach a trusted medic. Bracing himself for the pain that was sure to follow, Soundwave strengthened his posture. His link with Laserbeak dampened. She had not been with him during the time of his life when such injuries were commonplace. Laserbeak was far too young to cope with the pain resetting the joint would cause.

 

She felt his tension and though she complied with the adjustments he made, her spark fluttered with worry. Knowing his assurance would not be felt as strongly, he brushed the tips of his digits over the delicate instrument of her wings. They were indistinguishable from the main structure of his chassis. A mech with heightened attention to detail might make out the outline, but only one with the experience that involved intimately the life of a symbiont's host would recognize the subtle design of a mech's armor, the spaces purposefully left for the attachment of an addition.

 

Jazz seemed to be distracted via a private com-link. Soundwave speculated the silver mech was speaking with superiors. He watched with some interest as the bot’s doorwings hitched, a subtle murmur at the edge.

 

He waited for a beat. Then set his palm over the joint of the ankle. His other servo over the base of the long leg plate above. He vented, slow, calm then twisted the joint into place with a pop.

 

Jazz looked up sharply from the edge of the berth. His servos previously clasped together, resting languidly over his knees were quick to launch him forward, as if expecting energon to come gushing out of Soundwave’s audial ducts. “Primus mech, I would’ve helped ya with that.”

 

The silver agent pulled out medical grade gel from the med-kit. It was the expensive variety, the kind that solidified in less than a joor. He knew from experience only those with high standing in their profession had access to such luxury. And had Soundwave wondered why the agent was keeping the entire kit from him. Now it all made sense. It was about class struggles.

 

With a daft servo, he plucked the container out of the agent’s servo. “Hey!”

 

Soundwave dipped his helm in mockery of gratitude. He would apply the gel himself and did so immediately.

 

“Shoot a first responder in the pede why dontcha,”

 

He did not respond, working to carefully mold the gel into the ragged edges the fracture left behind.

 

“Hey, how ‘bout you let me get that scrape on your back. Don’t look like you can reach it,”

 

Soundwave hesitated. The agent’s spark pulsed with genuine concern, but his pride rebelled against the idea of accepting his assistance. In his optics the silver and black mech was largely responsible for the events of that orn. But his assessment rang true, he could not reach his damaged wing without assistance.

 

With great reluctance, Soundwave returned the gel. Holding himself with grace and absolute stillness as he allowed the agent access to his back.

 

Jazz vented softly, pushing his field outward, echoing his intended movement before he made it. Soundwave found himself surprised at the courtesy, uncertain what was meant to be done with it but no less accepting.

 

“Thanks, mech, it’s the least I can do.” Jazz lowered his voice as he spoke. Soundwave flinched initially as the gel made contact with the delicate panels of his injured wing, yet in light of this, he had to admit the agent remained professional throughout.

 

With the injury properly cared for, Jazz pulled back, returning to a respectful distance. “I figure we hang out here until the solar-cycle resets. Cliffjumper and Arcee will be here to pick ya up. After we get the all clear from our medic, we'll ask ya a few questions and you'll be free ta go. Easy as a rust stick.” He leaned back with a servo on his hip. “Sound good to ya, Sounders?”

 

The sensory array at the side of his helm twitched at the unexpected nickname. But he found no fault in the scenario the agent offered. “Acceptable,”

 

“Great! You’re agreeable mech ya know that” Jazz gave him a pat on the shoulder, mindful of the injured wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally have some proper Jazz and Wave interaction!! I think I ought to add an emphasis on that slow burn tag bc boy oh boy, but we'll get there. We're actually behind schedule, it's taking longer to edit/revise than I originally anticipated, largely because I overthink everything.
> 
> And a big THANK YOU to everyone who lefts comments and kudos ya'll feed my wretched soul


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home again and a visitor.

The door slid open, a soft click. Before his optics had adjusted to the low light of the domicile, two small forces collided with his leg. Soundwave threw his arms out to catch himself.

 

 “Boss!” Frenzy’s tiny fist curled around the back platting of his leg. Rumble latched himself onto the same leg on the other side, butting his helm against Soundwave’s knee guard. “You left us all lunar-cycle,” The distress and subsequent relief was as palpable across their shared bond as being dunked in a tank of liquid energon. 

  
“Who’s the bot that wronged you?” Frenzy detached himself just far enough to rest a servo on the alloy brace welded tightly around his leg, holding the plating together so nanites could repair the fissure properly. Medical grade and clearly not the cheap kind expected from Soundwave’s medic. He had not received the bill yet, but he suspected it would be what finally lost him the dingy apartment. The Polyhexian Department of Investigation did not pay for injuries they, themselves did not cause. All in all, Soundwave felt a pang of anger over the whole ordeal. It was times like this that made him sorely miss the harmony of his old unit, before everything went wrong. 

  
Overtaxed and utterly exhausted something in his frame gave way. Soundwave felt it in his lines, in his servos, they shook. 

  
“Alright that's enough let him get past the door, scraplets,” Ravage pulled Rumble out of the way. The look she gave him spoke of a conversation to be had at a later date. She was infinitely not pleased. 

 

Soundwave sent her a wave of gratitude as he made his way towards the berth and then slowly eased himself into it. The medic recommended not moving the injury if he could help it. The added weight of the brace made the leg feel twice as cumbersome. 

  
He would miss flying for the foreseeable future. 

  
The medical mask gave way with a soft click. He let the sheet of glass and metal clatter on the surface of the table next to the berth. With his vision darkened considerably, he felt more than saw the shifting of weight on the berth as the twins joined him. They climbed onto his chest and lay there, pressing their helms under his chin and sent insist pings to dock. 

  
He did not have the energy to maintain the connection for long and Soundwave had no desire to siphine resources from them his systems would no doubt take. But he longed for the connection as much as they did. The stress of a second injury taxed all parties involved. Sighing through a shaky vent, he granted their request. He would have to be careful but his symbionts needed comfort. 

  
Laserbeak greeted Frenzy and Rumble with a flurry of affection. They settled together as though they had spent no time apart. Despite any teasing or overzealous behavior that orn syncing up with each other as easily as the missing piece of a puzzle. 

  
Ravage jumped onto the desk, her tail wrapped around her paws as she waited for them to settle. ::What really happened?:: She inquired at last, frustration and suspicion alike seeping through their bond. ::You left me alone with them again.:: 

  
Soundwave tilted his helm to her. ::Apologizes. I take full responsibility for my reckless behavior.:: 

  
The feline’s tail twitched. She scrutinized him for another klik. ::But you still won’t tell me what actually happened?:: 

  
::Negative.:: Soundwave agreed. She was displeased with this response. He waited for a beat then sent her a pulse of reassurance, which she soundly rejected. As she had every right to, so he withdrew. 

  
Ravage stood. She hopped down from the desk and rounded the corner into the main room of the domicile, there she disappeared from his view but he knew she would not live the apartment, just as he knew she would be alright even if she did so he let her be. 

  
With three sparks humming in harmony with his own, surrounded by comfort, warmth and the familiar Soundwave swiftly succumbed to exhaustion.   
  


He woke over a joor later. A series of warnings flashing red across his hub urging him to disengage deployer protocols.

 

Slowly Soundwave rose to the joints of his arms. He sent an urgent ping for all three symbionts to disengage. With some alarm they deployed.

 

“I’ll get you energon!” Frenzy half squeaked.

  
Rumble gave him a shove. “No! I can do it.” The padding and screeching of small pedes across the floor and they were gone from sight. 

 

Laserbeak settled on the back of the chair in front of the desk. “Don’t worry master! We’ll take care of you now!”

 

 _Oh Laserbeak._ Her concern was appreciated though unnecessary. The situation could have been worse and truthfully he had endured circumstances far dire.

 

Rumble and Frenzy quickly returned running full throttle. Their small pedes screeched across the floor leaving another mark as they both made a sharp turn. They came in so quickly, the blue fluid sloshed over the rim and added yet another stain to accompany the new skid mark.

 

Rumble held up his cube first and to avoid the inevitable competition that would surely follow, Soundwave was quick to take it. He sipped it slowly, yet found he was unable to take more than half the cube. With a click he placed the cube on the table next to the berth. 

 

He swung his legs over the side of the berth with the intention of getting something done around the domicile, now that he was stuck within the small domain anyway. _Work_ would keep his processor off of the debt he owed. How in the pit was he doing to pay off two medics _and_ the rent? 

 

At once, Laserbeak, Rumble, and Frenzy were in his way. “Hold up! Your leg is still hurt boss!” Frenzy spread his arms wide, pedes spread apart as if that could somehow stop a mech serval times his size from stepping over him. His twin mimicked the pose. “You just sit back and relax, we got this. Ain’t that right Rumble?”

  
“Pit yeah!” Rumble threw a fist into his palm. “And after you get better we’ll take down whoever did this to you. we swear it-” 

  
“No,” The warning came swiftly and utterly, leaving his vocalizer without the thought even crossing his processor. “You will do no such thing. Symbionts will not seek trouble.” 

  
Their fields flared in explosive protest. “But boss, we can’t let ‘em get away with what they’ve done to you!” 

  
“Concern unwarranted. Polyhexian Police force aware of issue.” 

  
Rumble scoffed. “Yeah right, they’ve never cared before why would they care now?” 

  
“You will not seek trouble.” Soundwave patiently reiterated. 

  
“You ain't even denying it.” Rumble scowled. After a click of quietly shuffling his pedes, he climbed over the edge of the berth. Stopping only briefly to pull his twin over the edge with him. “We’re in this together, boss. When they insult you, they insult us too. We picked _you_ as our host. Not anyone else. That _means_ something.” Rumble stated firmly. His fierce expression contrasted the flimsy balance he had on the uneven surface of the berth, the little symbiont had taken to leaning his weight against Soundwave’s arm to anchor himself in place. 

 

He stared up into his host’s mangled faceplate. Rumble struggled to vocalize something. 

 

Frenzy gnawed on his inner-mesh of his cheek. “Ravage told us what happened. What that copper in Tyger Pax did... we're worried it's gonna happen again. We wanna do more to protect you, boss!” 

 

As patiently as he could be, with the unexpected unpleasant reminder, Soundwave pushed his assurance and confidence across their bond. The incident in question he had no plans to revisit. It was why he had moved out of Tyger Pax after all- one of many reasons why. “You have done enough,” He told them, quickly hushing their protests. He meant that sincerely, in time they would understand.

  
There were some things that could not be expressed in words so he sent the feeling forward, absolutely, confident and firm. It was what it was. The twins responded in kind, leaning into the embrace of the frequency. 

  
His immediate concerns were not of what the Law Enforcers would and could do- though these concerns were valid. Soundwave knew the law enough to know that he and his symbionts were in the clear, for now. No, finances took priority. A debt was owed, and after this second visit to the hospital, the collector would certainly come calling.   
  
  


 

* * *

 

 

Soundwave jolted to awareness at the hollow pounding on the domicile door. Though the private quarters were separated from the main dwelling that didn't mean a thing with walls this thin. He was certain his neighbors could hear it from a floor down. And if it hadn’t been for the sound itself he would have certainly felt the vibration as it crept from the main entry, through the floor and finally up the legs of the berth. Despite the fact that the mech currently knocking wasn’t at all forceful. 

  
The corner of his mouth turned downward. Who would be visiting him at this joor? The Polyhexian Police has suggested future contact but to do so soon seemed utterly ridiculous and desperate. No, they would wait a orn, perhaps four or six, allow him to relax, to let down his guard before they sprung. The disturbing alternative was that the thugs from the lunar-cycle past had tracked down not only his designation but home address as well. Out of his options, it seemed the most likely candidate, though it also suggested a well of organization and depth that seemed uncharacteristic of common street thugs. Another hidden Unit? 

  
It was sorely tempting to expand his range to confirm his suspicions but the action would overwhelm his already taxed system. If the situation went downhill he would need to save his energy. Perhaps too if they thought they had the wrong address they would leave. So he remained still and silent. 

  
In a bout of pure misfortune, it seemed his symbionts did not have such foresight. Across the domicile, he heard the scampering of pedes and the following thump, as someone sped too quickly across the tile and collided with a wall. 

  
Soundwave sent out a pulse for caution across their bond but the twins were far too impulsive. While they reached for the door, Soundwave reached for his mask. He miscalculated. His digits brushed against the fine metal and it was sent clattering to the ground under the berth. 

  
He stared at the floor. Wishing death and untold destruction on gravity and his damnable shaky servos.

 

-

  
  
“I’m getting it first!” 

  
“No!” Frenzy shrieked, he threw a punch, landing a hit on brother’s shoulder pad only to be kicked away by a knee guard. 

  
Rumble ducked under Frenzy’s retaliatory kick and leapt for the door panel. The moment his palm hit the large square panel Frenzy pulled him down again. They tumbled over each other, and then scrambled to their pedes as the door slid open. 

  
As the more aggressive of the two, Rumble was the first to peer around the moving door, glowering hotly as the towering mech on the side was revealed. 

  
He was big, like really big. Blue and silver and looked so out of place in the dingy background in a decrepit hab stream. Rumble met the mech’s bright blue optics with burning defiance. His spark burned with the desire to surpass mountains, and this stranger was just such a mountain. 

  
“Who the pit are you?” Rumble did his best to imitate his host, all cold and authoritative. Platting puffed out in his attempt to look larger. “What do you want?” 

  
Not to be outdone, Frenzy jumped in with growl, puffing up his platting even more. “Yeah, are you some sort of sales mech or something? If ya are, beat it! We’re broke and even if we had credit we wouldn’t buy slag from you anyway.” 

  
Unnoticed by the twins, Ravage slunk around the fringes of the main room, in sight of the doorway but only just. In present company she was the last line of defense for her deployer and she took her role seriously.

  
The towering mech held up his servos, pleading, calm. "I'm not here to sell you anything, no. I-I'm looking for Soundwave. I work with him? My name is Orion Pax, he didn't come in to work so I was worried and thought I’d... check up on him," Orion’s optics drifted quickly from them further into the domicile. He seemed to find them here. 

 

In unison, the twins scowled. Frenzy got the vague sense the mech was trying not to be condescending, but the fact that he _was_ trying prickled. He shared this feeling across his bond with Rumble and squinted. "Yeah well, likely story. I don't believe you, you don't look like an archivist, does he Rumble?" 

  
Rumble glared up at the mech. "Nah, he looks like a liar to me." 

  
"We ain't letting you anywhere near the boss!"

  
  
"Yeah! He's hurt and you ain't touching him!"

  
  
Frenzy gapped at his twin. He knew Rumble was stupid, but usually, he wasn't that stupid. "You weren't supposed to tell him that!"

  
  
Before the situation could escalate, Ravage choose that moment to intervene. Rumble and Frenzy yelped, diving in opposite directions to avoid getting caught under her paws. But this, it seemed, was never her intent. She stared up at the archivist, sharp red optics judging him and his field. "Soundwave has spoken of you, mostly in exasperation." She said.

 

Orion pax smiled gently. Worry laced his features. "I apologize for not recognizing you. I have to admit, I'm... at a loss. I didn't know he lived with....?" he gestured lightly, optics fighting to keep contact with hers. "May I see him? I would at least like to know how to best cover his shift. I covered this orn's...."

 

Ravage purred. “We have an arrangement you could say.” She scrutinized him for another klik, and then much to the twin’s loud and obnoxious protest, nodded her approval. “You may. Follow me.”

  
  
“Ravage you traitor!” Frenzy stomped his pede. He sent Orion a baleful look, and then ran around the corner, under the table and chairs and into the next room. Rumble followed at his heels but not before sticking his glossa out in Orion’s direction.   
  


Unbothered, Ravage led the way all the while walking under pede and upholding her solemn duty of being a dangerous tripping hazard. Orion struggled to keep in step as the sly feline dated between his legs; playful but also warning.  
  


-

  
Rumble and Frenzy felt the encroaching urgency but were not swift enough in retrieving his mask. It seemed to be stuck. In a crack in the floor. Of course. Soundwave’s optics flickered to the doorway and back. Anxiety dictating their movements.  

 

He was still not prepared for Orion’s emotional reaction. The look of surprise and profound sympathy. It has been some time since Soundwave had allowed anyone besides his symbionts to see his faceplate. Soundwave vented slowly, resetting his optics as the other’s anger, shock, horror ... and profound sorrow washed over him.

  
  
He sorted through it slowly, the intensity of it made it hard to process. When finally he had filtered through it, Orion had finished speaking. And then he started filtering through that too.

  
  
“... recover? Uh, are you okay? I suppose I should have asked that first..."

  
  
It was difficult to meet the mech’s optics.

  
  
“I am... stable,” He rasped through the static. Curiosity prickled, near tangible, scratching under the helm from the other mech. “I am grateful for your assistance. The medic has prohibited me from work for the next mega-cycle.”

  
  
Rumble pokes his helm up from where he had hidden between Soundwave and the wall. He glared at Orion, protectiveness flaring bright in his field. Soundwave tilted his helm towards the little mech marginally. Appreciative but scolding as there was no need for it here.

 

Orion nodded, kind and patient. “I could cover for you. In fact, that is why I—“ 

  
  
Rumble, in a fit of unfiltered energy from the stress of late, interrupted sharply. “Soundwave is our host and you can’t have ‘em! And- and He’s got enough trouble with the fragin’ police ventin’ down his back!” 

  
Soundwave clicked his denta together in warning. Rumble ducked out of view. 

  
“Soundwave... are you— did the police do this?” Orion’s voice took on a sharp note. Alarmed and a mix of things he could not read. Shame? Anger? It was personal, anyway. And Soundwave did not believe it was completely for his own behalf.

 

Orion’s curiosity was already more than he could take. Before the mech had responded, he had already prepared himself to give the mech enough information to sate his curiosity. In finite units of course. Soundwave did not like divulging information this way, but he had judged Orion not to be malicious and one of the few mecha he could label as an ally. “The circumstances that led to my injury were not the agents direct doing, but from the assumptions he made.” 

  
He found it easier to speak to Orion if he thought of the mech a member of the syndicate. It was indulgent perhaps to think of him this way but it allowed the low baritones of his voice to smooth, to cool, to speak with neutral professionalism.  

  
“If you recall, a mega-orn ago you gifted me a coupon to Riggby’s. My presence there ruffled the platting of the staff. An agent of the Polyhexian Police force among them.” Soundwave thought of Jazz and considered telling Orion the agent's designation but ultimately decided against it. 

 

“Last Lunar cycle I found myself tailed.” For the sake of his symbionts, he left out being held at gunpoint. If Orion was so curious he hopped than that the mech would pick up on the subtext. “Our... excursions led us to a place neither of us had any right to be... the situation went to pit after that.”

 

Something didn’t sit right. How odd it was when these moments arose when the archivist was caught off guard. A slight twitch to the corner of his mouth and Soundwave frowned. The shock and dismay were genuine but the execution felt forced, there was frustration there too ... self-restraint.

  
For a simple archivist, he seemed to have a frustrating amount of secrets to keep. Soundwave’s wings twitched. He would solve the puzzle of Orion Pax in time.

  
  
Orion sighed in relief, a servo to his chest, somehow personally eased by the knowledge the polyhexian police force had not acted maliciously, but the dismay persisted. “I’m sorry, Soundwave. I gave that to you and now it’s gone and gotten you hurt. I... look, I’ll take on your shift, no problem. I’ll make sure they keep the credits to your account.”  

  
Orion held up his servo before Soundwave could speak- he felt rather silly to be standing there in the doorway as such but persisted. He had made up his mind evidently, stubbornly. Carefully the clerk sat down in the chair by the berth. It was a bit small, comically so but neither of them commented on it. “I make enough credits, trust me. My job is— it’s— I get income primarily elsewhere.” Soundwave tilted his helm at that. He pulled up the memory file of their orn at the spa and _wondered._  “So... I really don’t need them. You must have medical bills right? Your leg, uh— so. Don’t fight me on this they’ll listen to me more on where to send ‘em.” 

  
Soundwave narrowed his optics at the mech in displeasure but finally consented. In his mind, it was Orion or the Padrone. And it still may come to that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that wait folks! Life got unexpectedly busy, procrastination stole my muse and this chapter, in particular, turned out to be something of a beast to smooth out. We should be over the hump now tho
> 
> This chapter feels a bit rocky to me. This chap and the next few are unbeta'd so If you spot any grammar issues or consistencies please let me know!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *author re-emerges after a century banishing cane* 
> 
> h-happy holidays, young'ins

Frenzy’s pedes hit the roof with a solid plink. Momentum sent him tumbling, helm first, into a half roll. He found his footing a beat later. He dug his heels in to avoid skidding any further down the incline of the roof and redoubled his efforts to catch up. Rumble had a head start of two kliks and he was already pulling himself over the edge of the third story balcony above his helm. Frenzy saw his twin's pede vanish over the roof ledge and bristled.

 

He ran down the back column of the roof until he came to the drainage pipe that wound its way down the side of the building. He grappled with the pipe for a beat, cautious enough to test its strength, before he latched on to it and vaulted himself upward.

 

Technically speaking, there were rules against this sort of thing.

 

He wasn't _supposed to_ shimmy up buildings and trapeze over rooftops. But when a bot got paid by the time it _didn't_ take them to get to their destination, public ordinances kinda stopped being fragging relevant.

 

Look, it was a big bot world out there, and he and Rumble weren't gonna get any bigger. The Polyhexian city architects should've thought of bots their size when they built the high-streets. It was too easy to get stepped on down there. Fraggin' pit. He was tired of getting trampled. If the boss could waltz around them with all the pit-spawned grace of a seeker in flight, why couldn't anybody else?

 

Rumble came to a stop just before he reached the end of the roof. His helm tilted up, then down, gauging the distance between the rooftop and the next building over. Ravage might have had no problem crossing that gap, but his and Frenzy’s legs weren't that springy. Or long.

  
A beat passed and his twin huffed at the sudden halt of pace. “What? Scraplet got your pede or somethin'?” Frenzy taunted. 

 

“Shut up,” Rumble growled back. “I can make it, I’m just er...” he trailed off unwillingly, the distance only seemed to grow as he stared.

 

Frenzy sneered. “I bet _I_ could make that jump.”

 

“Oh yeah? I bet you _can’t_.”

 

Frenzy puffed out his chest and made a great show of how easy he thought it looked. But his engine still sputtered as he peered down, over the edge of the roof and into the alley below. It was a far drop. The kind of drop that'd snuff you out quickly if you hit your helm just right.

 

“Are you gonna do it or what?” Rumble crossed his arms over his chest. They never were ones to play ‘safe’ games. Boss would have scolded them for being reckless— but he was not there and with him all of their impulse control.

 

Frenzy sputtered. “Of course I am!” He tore his optics away from the alley and stepped back a few paces to get a better look around. His twin made several unimpressed noises as he waited, which quickly turned into a terrible imitation of an ancient chrono-meter.

 

Peering around the corner of the ledge revealed a chrome pipe with a little knob at the end. It looked like the kind of thing a merchant might hang a mesh banner from. Perfect.

 

With no more time to waste on nerves he leapt for it. The pipe bent from the force of his jump, but his grip held firm. The pipe itself only gave a mild creak of protest, trembling, but bent no further. Once stabilized, Frenzy pulled himself upright and shot a grin at his twin. Ego inflated from his victory on the precarious ledge and the narrow pipe. Their race resumed.

 

Eventually, they reached their destination with kliks to spare; a nondescript office building in the economic sector of the upper crust. Security was rather lax here. Near nonexistent towards the fourth floor, and required only a little creative maneuvering to shimmy under a window that had been left open a crack. Navigating the building itself proved to be no obstacle and before long they were stepping into a nondescript private office. The air stuffy and cloyed with chemical solutions and high-tower polish along with something else unidentifiable instead of the musky pollutants of the lower sect. They were almost equally nauseating.

  
The private office was not as empty as he’d expected it to be. Errands usually ended with Frenzy and Rumble meeting with one bot. They would exchange the delivery for credits, energon or whatever the boss had agreed to and then they would be on their way. But it was only ever supposed to be with one bot. Sometimes but rarely ever two. See, the boss thought it wise for security’s sake. One mech was easier to handle than two or three. It was part of the agreement.   
  


But beside the client stood a mech Frenzy did not recognize. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He was bulky in frame and dull blue in color. He had the kind of build Frenzy would expect from a construction bot or a brawler and the scuffed up paint job to match it. 

 

Both bots paused mid-conversation as Frenzy and his twin stepped into the room.

 

“We got your stuff.” Frenzy stated. He kept his helm leveled towards the client, suspicion bubbled uncomfortably through his circuits. Rumble felt it too and locked his attention on to the new mech. “...So, we'll take our pay now. We got somewhere to be.”

 

“That's them,” the client stated, looking instead to the brawler. _Well pit_.

 

Frenzy took a step back. “What, you got another job for us? You gotta talk to the boss first, mech.”

 

The brawler didn't seem to care one way or another. “You work for Soundwave,” he stated.

 

“Yeah,” Rumble said. “Like he said. You want us to get something for you, you gotta talk to the boss first.”

 

The mech nodded. “I would expect no less.” He produced a small data-slug from subspace. Then he knelt and held it out to them in the manner one might approach a wild cybercat or an ill-mannered sparkling. “I have a message for Soundwave, from Tyger Pax. For his optics only.”

 

Frenzy squinted at him. Most bots didn't bother stooping down and it felt kinda weird.  

 

While Frenzy kept his optic on the mech Rumble snatched the data-slug from his servo before sliding back a good pace or two. He gave it a quick scan.

 

“Our credits are in here. Let's go.” There was an odd weight- a level of tension neither of them could place.

 

Frenzy handed over the package to their intended client and together they scampered out of the room, a brief charge of hesitance hanging behind them and the odd exchange with the stranger over their helms. Rumble clutched the data-slug tight in his servo. What did they want with the Boss?

 

* * *

 

Of course, neither of them could keep quiet for long.

 

“Well, that was weird wasn't it.” Frenzy commented to Rumble half way between the economic district and the apartment block. That had been their last run of the cycle, and because the boss wanted them back by a certain time, they went home directly after that. Rumble agreed and they launched into a short conversation that ultimately went nowhere, and the rest of the journey home was spent taking pot-shots at each other under residential grates and over crooked benches. But the encoded message was not forgotten.

 

Soundwave did not arrive until a quarter after.

 

They both looked up from their hidden fortress, underneath the table, as he entered. There was a slight wobble to his gait that could be contributed to the weld, but he'd recovered enough to go to work the orn before. With the bond open, he felt his host’s discomfort, but the pain had lessened. That alone was enough to ease something in all of them.

 

Rumble crawled out from under the table as Soundwave went about his usual routine. The bond pulsed with acknowledgment and the steady warmth of his presence. _Secure. Safe. Contentment._  

 

“Hey, boss! We got something for you.” Rumble scrambled to his pedes and bolted into a clumsy dash to get to the larger mech before Frenzy could shove him down.

 

“Hey! I was going to show him!” His twin squawked in indignation, scrabbling after him. But Rumble had already had a terribly long head start.

 

He almost made it. Frenzy jutted his pede out to trip him, but Rumble recalibrated his center of balance just in time and quickly took shelter behind Soundwave's heel. The Boss held still, careful with his footing, but with a resigned kind of stillness that felt mildly exasperated. But only mildly. He never seemed to mind too much. 

 

Rumble stuck out his glossa and quickly, so he wouldn't have the chance to yell it out, presented the black data-slug. “Some bot showed up with the client. Didn't catch his designation but he seemed to know ya. He said to give this to you, your optics only-”

 

“All the way from _Tyger Pax_ ,” Frenzy interjected, loudly. “Big guy, had this look about like he was a brawler, but didn’t like to be all the time. —You gotta black-list that guy, he didn’t follow the agreement.”

 

Rumble shot him a scathing glare. But the atmosphere had changed abruptly as Soundwave seemed to recognize _something_ of what they had said.

 

There was a pause, a muting of all sensation from the other side of the bond and Rumble, half pressed against his leg now, glanced up at his boss in confusion. “Wha-what’s with the block?”

 

Soundwave took the data-slug between two delicate digits and stepped over him.

 

Rumble and Frenzy exchanged a look. This was new. They trotted along after him. “Boss?”   
  
They watched as the boss extracted whatever intel had been on the slug. The process didn't take very long. It never did, but something felt _very_ different now. _Bad_ kind of different. Rumble watched his boss carefully; it did not escape his notice that he seemed to hold himself tighter every passing nano-second. In two beats the boss’s biolights were hidden under dark platting, a subconscious thing. Whatever was on that slug, it’d deeply unsettled him.

 

Soundwave sent it to subspace. He stood still, processing. Pushing against the block on their bond, didn’t yield anything meaningful, much to Rumble’s annoyance. 

 

Soundwave swept across the room abruptly to the little storage unite between the end of the berth and the wall. He retrieved something Rumble didn’t get a good glimpse of, and from the frustrated burst from Frenzy, he hadn’t either, and then Soundwave turned smoothly  on his heel and went back out.

 

That drew Ravage and Laserbeak's attention. Laserbeak squawked and fluttered her wings but she was ultimately ignored. “I'm coming with you.” Ravage said, on her pedes by the time Soundwave was halfway across the room. She stopped suddenly. A silent conversation passed between them, entirely too tense for their usual conversation. Rumble watched, confused, as Ravage sat back down, her tail lashing furiously, while the boss made no move to approach her. 

  
With one delicate servo over the keypad, Soundwave said to all of them, firmly and with no room for argument; “You will _wait here_. Do _not_ answer the door until I return.” 

 

And then he left.  
  


* * *

  
The sleek plane gave a sharp turn and steadily began its descent into the back-lot of a nondescript building. A smooth descent gave way to a near-silent shifting of gears and circuits. Soundwave stood in the cold shadow of the building and quietly observed the back-lot. 

 

The space was devoid of activity. Relatively clean, save for the faded scorch marks marring the wall of one of the buildings that surrounded the back-lot, hiding it from view. The back wall of an oil-house, Soundwave believed. Though he paid it very little attention once he felt secure in the knowledge he was alone. The hum of the city was an ever-present, grating force at the back of his processor, but the heavy weight of what he was about to do kept him focused.

 

Soundwave had, over the course of a mega-cycle and a half, considered how he might breach the subject with the Padrone. He had considered the matter calmly, than irrationally, and then again with a growing dread. He’d dismissed the possibility again and again, assuring himself there would always be an alternative, and that prostrating himself at the pedes of his superior wouldn’t be necessary. This idea was foolish and he should have known better. Soundwave’s departure had been agreed upon. He had not attempted to hide this desire from the Padrone and had, in fact, informed him of his decision shortly after making it.

 

That had been a long, one-sided discussion.

 

To keep such a secret would have been moronic, but moreover, the thought to keep this desire a secret had not even crossed his mind. The very idea was unthinkable. And so it was with the Padrone’s expressed permission that he had left. A highly privileged courtesy very few were afforded.

 

To turn around then, and plead for assistance would have been a humiliating show of weakness. Of complete incompetence. But for the Padrone instead to turn around and inquire after _him_. It was nothing short of a calamity. It meant that his worst fears had been realized. The mech he had recognized at the warehouse _had_ , in fact, sent word back to the _Padrone_.  

  
Soundwave started down the alley between the oil-house and some other block-stream he had no designation for. The directions he’d extracted from the data-slug directed his attention to the right, at the next cross-road. Before he reached the next turn, he felt the familiar hum of a spark. The familiar signature drew on a recently archived memory-file, and Soundwave tugged the thought to the forefront of his mind.   
  
  
The mech was calm, patiently waiting for his arrival, but there under the surface lay that familiar tension. The mech had always been a fighter, grudging to some extent, and more than willing to throw around his own weight. And from the thrumming of his spark, that hadn’t changed much. 

 

Breakdown appeared as his memory banks had preserved him. The mech finally noticed his approach after half a klik— jerking slightly.

 

“Soundwave,” Breakdown politely inclined his helm. “It’s been a long time hasn’t it?” 

 

Soundwave inclined his helm by way of reply.

 

“I uh- here. A message from the Padrone.”

 

Breakdown took two steps forward and set down a holo-projector. He took a step back as the device hummed to life. It scanned the immediate area, then clicked, and projected the face of the mech Soundwave had hoped to never meet again; the Padrone.

 

Soundwave knelt down on one knee. Breakdown followed suite.

 

“Soundwave, it has been too long.” The voice of the Padrone, grovely and deep, intoned the greeting. He studied Soundwave for a beat. The foreign strangeness of being unable to feel the living mech on the other end unsettled him. “Frankly, I’m astonished. You have maintained your silence thoroughly for vorns and then I hear from a soldier that you were spotted, in the presence of an officer, sabotaging our client’s operation.”

  
The Padrone steepled his servos together underneath his chin. A dark look crossed his optics. “You have proven yourself to be far too competent for this act to be unintentional.”   
  
  
Soundwave winced.   
  
  
“In light of this, you’ve done me a favor. Scorponok has a debt to pay, and a mech counted among his associates owes our Syndicate a great deal.” He leaned back. “Soundwave, I believe it’s time you return to us.” 

   
He did not want this. 

 

The Padrone did not wait for a response. “Our former associates believe they can walk away from the debt I am owed. They are wrong. You are to find evidence of their crimes and lay them before the pedes of the Precinct of Polyhex.”

 

Beside him, Breakdown jolted. His shock was palpable and not unexpected. There existed an unspoken rule in the underworld of Cybertron. A mutually assured silence. To break that vow, and come forward to the police was unthinkable and unforgivable. But the Padrone thought himself above such things. 

 

“As you are already acquainted with the Precinct here, I suspect it will be a simple task for a mech of your... unique abilities.” Soundwave felt the weight of the Padrone’s stare. His spark raced, uncomfortable and tight within his chest but again, said nothing. “I do not care how you accomplish this task. Stage murder, frame their own. I do not care, but do not implicate our Syndicate in any way.”

 

“Breakdown will be your handler until your task is complete. Do not disappoint me.”

 

The holo-project shut off.

 

The resuming silence felt oppressive.

 

Slowly, Soundwave rose. His leg ached.

 

Breakdown, never a talkative mech, got to his pedes without a word. He took the holo-projector. He looked to Soundwave and shifted awkwardly. “So, uh, yeah. Here's your list. Only got two bots for now.” He passed over a small data-chip. Soundwave took it stiffly.

 

“Look, I don't think we need to change anything. You and I both know you haven't needed a handler in vorns,” Breakdown took a step back, allowing him to pass as Soundwave turned to walk down the corridor. “figure we keep it the same as it was back then.”

  
Breakdown hesitated. “I'm sure you know, but the Padrone knows where you're living now. I am under orders to stop by your residence periodically.”

 

Soundwave paused mid-step, the miniature wings down his back bristled. He turned to stare Breakdown down and the mech shifted his stance from casual to defensive. 

 

He raised his servos appeasingly. “‘s nothing personal.” Understanding dawned then, a loose connection of thought clicking into place. It only served to fuel Soundwave’s anger. “Ah. Your mechlings. I won’t go near ‘em again, I swear it.”   
  
  
Soundwave stared him down for a beat longer. He turned down the corridor, shifted into aerial mode and took off before he could do anything else monumentally stupid. Though this time, being detected, there wasn’t much more he could do that he hadn't done already.

 

So far, everything seemed to only ever be one massive mistake, one after another.   
  


The Padrone had solidified that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made some minor spelling/grammatical edits to a few previous chapters. Edited the tags a bit and I removed that canon divergence tag. After going through my outlines and notes I realized the tag wasn't accurate to what was actually going on in the story, though I can make the argument for it, it didn't feel right. So I removed it. Apologies for the confusion!


End file.
